


Monsters & Mystics

by Jaygrl22



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Action, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Secrets, I'm Bad At Tagging, Original Character-centric, References to Depression, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Supernatural Elements, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 56,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaygrl22/pseuds/Jaygrl22
Summary: They’re good kids; hard workers. Still, there’s something off about them… The eldest zones out when he touches something old, the other boy is too charming, the youngest one’s always eying empty space, and the older girl… is it just me, or do things change around her? The weather, people’s lives… Fate itself? Maybe it’s just me. Who believes in magic, anyway?---Vampires, Witches, & Shifters—oh my! Amethyst Dagwood and her siblings – Chris, Dale, and Cypress – are on the run and making a mess of Fate in a tiny town. Having a crush isn't the best idea when you're constantly being hunted for the magic flowing in your veins. Crushing on a vampire is an even worse idea.Remember: Essences don't get happy endings.





	1. Let's Change Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the plot and characters of the Twilight series belong to Stephanie Meyer, not me. I only own my own characters and my ideas for this fic.

"I'll pick you guys up as soon as I can. 6:15 if I can manage it. Try to be around, okay? I want to get back to Chris as soon as possible."

"Relax, Cy," Dale sighs as he scoots out of the beat-up Bronco. "She'll be fine one day on her own."

I shake my head climbing into the front seat. "We'll be here. Even if I have to tie _Goldilocks_ to the flagpole."

Our elder brother sends me a tired smile, trying to appreciate the humor. The circles beneath his eyes are darker and deeper than they should be for someone who just turned twenty. They're almost as dark as the mess on his head and the stubble across his chin.

He brings a hand up as if to pet my hair but abruptly stops. Instead, he awkwardly pats my shoulder.

I put my hand on top of his. "One day at a time, Cy."

He nods and I follow Dale out. Raindrops instantly hit the top of my head and the metal door whines as I shut it. 

Dale waits patiently beneath the Front Office's overhead shelter. A pair of girls pass and he gives them a wink and smile. His dimples mixed with the slight gap in his teeth and the freckles across his nose sends one of them into an uncontrollable fit of girlish giggles. The other turns bright red and tries to shush her friend.

He enjoys their reactions. A _lot_.

"Good _Lord_." Nearly gagging, I speed past him and open the door. "Could you at least wait until I've digested my breakfast before you start?"

A small wave of heat rushes to greet us as we enter. The room is fair sized for an office. Poster boards and flyers litter the walls and a large clock ticks loudly in the corner. Three desks sit behind the long counter dividing the room. One is vacant but the other two are occupied by older women, perhaps in their forties or fifties.

"Don't hate the love," Dale argues in a hush.

"I hate anything that involves you being a pain in my—"

"Good morning, Miss!" he cheerfully greets the woman closest to the counter, cutting off my remark. The redhead glances over the rim of her glasses and smiles.

"Good morning. Are you the Dagwood twins?"

" ** _We're not twins_** ," we say together. We send each other a glare. " ** _Really?_** _"_

She chuckles quietly, hiding it much better than the woman behind her.

"I'm Amethyst," I say quickly, relieved when my brother doesn't echo me in some way, "and that's Dale."

She nods and pulls some papers from her desk. She glances at them then behind us. "Shouldn't there be three of you?"

There should be, yes, but Chris was tossing and turning throughout the night. Choking down soft sobs outside our motel room at two in the morning. She looked exhausted before even cracking her eyelids open. One look at her bloodshot baby blues and I pulled the covers back over her weary form. It surprised everyone when she didn't start cursing and swearing in protest, making it clear just how much she needed to stay in bed today.

"Chris is home sick. She hasn't been feeling well since the move."

"Oh, I see," the receptionist hums confidently. "The first day at a new school is always scary, but it's never as bad as you think it's going to be."

I chew the inside of my cheek to keep from scowling. This woman doesn't know what she's talking about. Forks, Washington is barely a pinprick on the map. I'd be willing to bet there are only three schools in the area: an elementary school, a middle school, and this high school. If there was anyone who knew how "scary" new schools could be, it was us. And after the first five, you get over it.

"I'm surprised your mother let her stay home," she continues.

Neither of us says anything. We share a glance, our thoughts one in the same. _Would_ Mom have let her stay home? Probably. She would've made someone stay home with her too. Cy, most likely. Or herself.

Dale shrugs softly. We both know we don't have that luxury right now.

"Chrysanthemum," the receptionist mumbles, breaking our concentration. She studies my sister's paperwork. "That's not a name you see every day."

I manage a smile. If Chris heard her, the baby fat on her cheeks would turn beet red and she'd grumble behind her dark, feathery hair for the rest of the day. We all inherited Dad's gentle waves but thanks to her choppy layers, Chris's are much more prominent. They're _excellent_ for hiding in.

Dale starts talking again. Asking about the school, the teachers, and so on as the woman begins highlighting the best routes to our classes on separate maps. He casually asks if there are any part-time jobs available in the area. She mentions a few places then points to one of the notice boards on the wall.

"That's where we put up information about after-school opportunities. It's not all jobs and some pay with extra credit so if you're looking for a little spending money be sure to read them carefully."

I debate how casually I can stroll up to the board and take one of everything without looking like a desperate, greedy monkey when she hands us our maps, schedules, and a slip of paper.

"Have each of your teachers sign those and bring them back here at the end of the day."

Ah, perfect. I'll be able to sic Dale on her then and take everything down while she's distracted. If he can flash those pearly whites once or twice in the other woman's direction too, she won't notice me either.

We catch each other's eye. He grins, already liking the plan.

The two women bid us good luck on our first day. We thank them and step back out into the elements. Glancing at our maps, our first classes are on opposite ends of the school. Well, they _call_ it a school. It's really a cluster of brick buildings, a huge parking lot, and a sports field that could probably pass for a swamp.

It surprises me that the rainiest high school in America isn't one large schoolhouse. The buildings aren't that far apart, though, and there are a few slabs of roofing connecting them together that offer some refuge. But unless you want to walk class to class following a perfectly angular route like Pacman, they're useless. Plus everyone must try to squish under those slabs while it's raining to avoid getting wet, and who wants to deal with that nightmare?

"We could walk into the woods right now if we wanted," Dale says eying the trees around the school. "Nothing could stop us from leaving. Do you think they even have security here?"

"I don't know," I mumble giving my map one last look. "I haven't seen any golf carts."

Our last school was so large campus security drove around in repurposed golf carts. Forks High School is microscopic in comparison.

Tucking the papers into my bag, I pull out the small tinted glass bottle Mom gave me before her most recent departure. Popping off the cap, I roll the mixture onto my wrists and the warm, familiar scent drifts into the air.

My brother raises a brow. "You really think you're going to need that today?"

I shrug, rubbing my wrists together before dabbing each side of my neck. Like Mom always says: _New people, new place; protection's never a waste_.

Besides, this is _high school_. Lord only knows what kind of monsters walk amongst us here.

Dale chuckles.

By now, the parking lot is filled with cars. Our future classmates make their way to different buildings. A few of them glance our way, taking in an eyeful of the fresh meat. Dale is sure to reward all the girls who look with a smile until the first bell rings.

"Do you need me to walk you to your first class?" he asks.

"I'll be fine."

"You sure? You're not going to get lost and hurt someone?"

"The only person I ever want to hurt is you and _you're_ ten times more likely to get lost than I am."

He laughs and ruffles my hair freely. I smack his hand away and punch his arm. Part of me wishes it was _he_ who felt uncomfortable with me instead of Cy. Or maybe annoyed as Chris does. Anything to keep him from bugging me all the time.

But deep down I'm sort of grateful. He's the only one who ever treats me the same regardless of whether Mom's around or not. It would be wonderful if Chris and Cy could always feel as free and comfortable with me as Dale did — Head Witch or not.

 _Temporary_ Head Witch, I remind myself. It's just temporary until she comes back. Like always.

Dale's smile falters. For a moment, he looks just as vulnerable and lost as Chris. He pulls up the corners of his lips but his eyes, the same blue as hers and Mom's, don't regain their shine. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"This is all just temporary," he echoes, then wags a finger in my face. "Remember the rules. Just because you're in charge right now doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want."

"I already know that. It's not like I break them _all_ the time," I mumble trying to fix my hair.

It's a vain effort. Unless it's smothered in product, my hair always tends to look like I've recently stepped out of a wind tunnel. Complete with twigs on occasion. Every so often I can make the toffee colored mess appear intentional – what Dale calls my "beach-hair" look – but the frizz and the flyaways never quite disappear.

"No, you just break them _most_ of the time."

"No more than you!"

He laughs and ruins my hair a second time as the warning bell rings. "Maybe. But I'm a thousand times more subtle than you!" I shove him into the rain. Snickering he says, "I'll see you at lunch, _Sunshine_."

A blast of thunder and lightning crackle across an otherwise calm sky. Some kid in the distance shrieks in surprise. Dale stops to look back at me once more, unimpressed with the display of power.

I pull up my hood, not bothering to fix my static hair. "I'll be good."

He hums, not believing me for a second, then runs off in the rain. I follow suit in the other direction and skid into my first class just as the final bell rings.

The room is a fair size. Maybe twenty-five desks total with less than twenty students to fill them. Everyone stares as I hang my raincoat on a hook beside the door. Some kids start whispering excitedly. I nervously flatten my bangs, hoping to keep them moderately restrained, then hurry to hand the teacher my note.

"Hello, sir, I'm Amethyst Dagwood. It's nice to meet you."

My teacher, an older man with large spectacles, looks down at my outstretched hand in surprise then shakes it courteously. He introduces himself as Mr. Varner and welcomes me before turning to the class.

"Students, eyes up front." The only ones _not_ already staring are the ones whispering. They halt their conversation immediately. "We have a new student." He gestures for me to introduce myself.

"Hi, I'm Amethyst." I send the room a wave. "Uh, I was born in Maine, but we just moved here from California. This is my," I pause for the slightest moment, counting, "fourth high school so far." Someone lets out a low whistle and I grin in that direction. "I know. Crazy, right? So, yeah… I've got three siblings: one's graduated, one's sick today, and the other is probably flirting with your girlfriend as we speak."

I give the class a curt nod. There are a few chuckles as I turn back to Mr. Varner, who welcomes me again and tells me to find a seat.

A blue-eyed blond in the back-row waves and pats the empty desk beside him eagerly. The brunette in front of that seat glances over her shoulder at him then sends me a shy smile. I wouldn't normally choose to sit in the very back of a class but my grasp on math is fair enough that I decide to let it slide.

We only get through some quick introductions when Mr. Varner jumps into his lesson. My last trigonometry class was a section or two ahead of them and I'm grateful for the small buffer. Especially as the blond, Mike, leans over to continue our conversation.

"So, California, huh? I'm from Sacramento, myself."

"Neat. We were mostly down in the San Fernando Valley."

"What brings you to Forks?"

"My mom," I say simply.

"Oh, like work or something?"

I hum. 

"It's one heck of a difference, right?" he continues, leaning closer. "I remember getting so sick of the rain my first month."

"I missed the rain actually. There's only so much sun a person can take."

"Really? Well if you're looking to hide from the sun, you picked the right place."

I chuckle softly and his face lights up.

"Mr. Newton—" Mike jolts upright in his chair "—while I appreciate you trying to make our newest addition feel _welcome_ , save it for after class." A few snickers roll around the classroom at Mr. Varner's partly-suggestive, completely-disapproving tone.

Embarrassment crawls up my cheeks as Mike mumbles an apology. I turn the other way hoping to reel in the blush and avoid any more conversations. The seat to this side of me is empty, but across it sits the most stunning creature I've ever seen.

My brain cannot process him wholly. His chiseled features come to me in fragments: flawless porcelain skin, high cheekbones, pale lips. The most colorful thing about him is the wild field of bronze atop his perfect head, though the purplish shadows cradling his eyes deserve an honorable mention.

Perhaps he's fractured this way because my eyes refuse to tear away from the depths of his. They are blacker than the night sky and I get lost in them. The faintest trace of gold peeks around his pupils. An eclipse of the sun burning into my soul.

In a brief moment of escape, I see his handsome jaw lock and his white hands ball into fists. A struggle plays out in his eyes, muddled slightly by confusion. Something inside me shudders. Then it hits me.

I'm staring at him. No, not staring. I'm leaning over the aisle, wide-eyed, mouth open, like a predator who just caught the scent of the most perfect morsel in existence.

I'm not staring. I'm straight up _gawking_ at this boy.

My mind screeches in horror: _CONTROL YOURSELF, MORON!_

Snapping my eyes shut, I force myself to face forward. I take a deep breath and hold the air in my lungs while fighting back a new wave of embarrassment. Eventually, my chest becomes too tight and I need to breathe again.

Carefully folding my hands in front of me, I open my eyes. Mr. Varner is still speaking. Some kids near the front are passing notes, a few others are whispering. Occasionally someone peeks over their shoulder to get another look at me, but no one else seems to have noticed my little creeper moment. Except the boy, of course. I fight the desire to look his way again.

It would be so easy, though… I could just flip my hair and glance his way. Maybe he's looking at me. In fact, he probably is. I'm new blood in a small town. Why wouldn't he be? I could flutter my eyes a bit and smile. Ask him if he knows where—

I shove the Dale-like thoughts out of my mind. It's too late, though. The damage is done. My cheeks are red again.

Something soft and wispy starts to advance on me. An invisible force circles the space around my head. I smooth down the top of my hair, trying to discreetly brush whatever it is away. It presses a little harder. Not against my head, I realize, but against my consciousness itself. The creature is pressing against the mental walls around my mind.

A small scoff escapes me.

Very easily, I focus on the energy around me and give it a surge of power. I imagine the energy radiating off my skin, forming a dome around me. It's harder than steel and pulses outward, pushing the invisible force back. It flounders then disappears.

A victorious smirk spreads across my lips, my mood instantly lifted. Too easy.

For the rest of class, I manage to keep my eyes on Mr. Varner. Whatever he says is entirely lost on me, however, because simply _looking_ at him and not the boy to my right takes every ounce of self-control in my body. Whenever my head starts to shift in his direction I press my nails into my skin to force myself to face the board. The curious fog-like whatever-it-is comes back a few times but it gets easier to shoo away as it grows more and more frustrated.

The bell comes as a welcome relief. I grab the map from my bag and quickly throw a strap over my shoulder. Through the cloud-like haze of my bangs, I take a chance and peek at the black-eyed boy.

Now _he's_ the one gawking.

I tilt my head up slightly in surprise, allowing us to stare openly into each other's eyes. What does he see in mine I wonder? Are they a dull and boring green? Does he akin them to jade or a foggy winter morning? The thin, splintering silver ring encompassing my irises clashes with the color. It's the Mark of an Essence but to a Norm like him, it probably just looks like some version of heterochromia.

His eyes, on the other hand, are as dark and deep as onyx. For a shade so void of color, they're quite beautiful. The gold trying to claw its way out is absolutely hypnotizing.

"—next class?"

"Huh?"

Mike stares at me, his eyes not nearly as interesting as the other boy's.

I shake my head quickly. "Sorry, what?"

He flashes a glare over my shoulder. Glancing back, I catch only a glimpse of the boy hurrying out of the room. My insides heave in disappointment. Then I realize just about everyone in the room is either staring at me or listening intently to our conversation.

"Do you need help finding your next class?" Mike asks again.

"Oh. Uh…" I glance down at my map. "Mr. Mason, building 3?"

"That's my next class," Angela, the brunette, says softly garnering my attention. She folds in on herself as she stands, making her seem small and meek despite being taller than most boys in the room. "We can walk together if you want?"

"That'd be great, actually."

We pull on our coats and head out into the drizzle. People often do a double take as I pass, surprised at the sudden fresh face. One kid even walks into a pole. There are whispers about me and my brother already. Mostly him, of course. Some poor soul is already complaining about his crush drooling over the gorgeous new boy. One girl compares him to Cullen you can actually talk to, whatever that means.

I can't help chuckling. Our arrival never causes this much commotion at a new school. Maybe a little chattering in our classes but the whole student body? Perhaps it's the size.

With less than four hundred students total, Forks is easily the smallest school we've ever transferred to. It's a pretty small town in general. New blood must be a rarity. I allow them their awe, knowing soon, like children with a shiny new toy, our novelty will disappear and they'll move on with their lives.

Mike walks as far as he can with us then invites me to sit with them and their friends at lunch with big puppy-dog eyes. Once I give him my word, he grins and rushes off in another direction.

Angela quietly leads me the rest of the way. Her nervous energy is palpable. All the eyes on me also rake over her and she isn't used to, or comfortable with, the attention. I thank her generously when we hang up our coats.

After handing Mr. Mason my slip, she introduces me to two other girls. Lauren, a blonde with green eyes and a snooty voice, and Jessica, a brunette with voluminous curly hair who's at least a foot shorter than Angela.

Once she finds out Mike invited me to lunch with them, Jessica is practically making plans for Mani Pedies and movie nights. Her eagerness is not as genuine as Mike's, nor is she as kind as Angela, but she's better than Lauren. The blonde is only passively interested in what her friends are saying and seems to find my existence _tolerable_ at best.

I start to doubt my plans to have lunch with them but all three girls walk me to my next class despite theirs being in different buildings. Granted, my third period is almost directly across from our previous class, but I pretend they're being selfless and kind. For my own sake.

Stepping into the room, it looks like every other science lab I've been in. Long tables with black tops and walls covered with posters of periodic elements and different "fun" scientific facts. The air is filled with sterilizing chemicals and the unforgiving scent of puberty. Each table has two seats for partnered labs but only two of them are currently occupied, leaving me clueless as to where I might be placed.

I hand Mr. Banner my slip and offer him my hand. Instead of taking it or introducing himself, he plops the textbook in my hand instead. A small static surge runs between my fingertips at the snub. He instructs me to a seat near the very center of the class. My partner, if I have one, has yet to arrive.

Instead of taking a seat, I stand in the aisle and chat with my new classmates as they slowly pour in. They're all eager to hear about my life but there's only so many ways to regurgitate the same lies four hundred times and keep it interesting.

Just as the warning bell rings, a petite girl with short, wild hair comes dancing into the room. She grins and waves excitedly in my direction. My hand moves to return the gesture but I quickly look behind myself instead. With such a friendly expression I expect her to be greeting someone she knows, but no one in the class shares her jovial smile.

She slides into a seat at my table.

"Hi, lab partner!" Her big black eyes shine up at me. I'm struck by the familiar golden rays hiding behind her pupils then smile and sit beside her. She must be related to him somehow.

"Hi, lab partner." I stick my hand out. "I'm—"

"Amethyst Dagwood," she says taking my hand. Hers is as cold and smooth as stone. "I know. Everyone's talking about you. I'm Alice Cullen."

"Nice to meet you, Alice. Good things, I hope?"

"Oh, absolutely! Though your brother should really avoid flirting with Lilly Parker before her boyfriend hears about it. He could get a bloody nose and that would _not_ end well. By the way, if you need any help at all in this class, don't hesitate to ask. I know this stuff like the back of my hand."

I chuckle. "You might regret saying that. Science is pretty much my worst subject."

"Don't worry," she says smiling. "I'm here for you. Could I see your schedule? We may have some other classes together."

She sounds very certain of this. Being at such a small school, I wouldn't be surprised if she were right. It's only third period and I'm pretty sure there are more familiar faces in this room than new ones.

She barely even looks at my schedule when I hand it to her. "We have Gym together next! My brother Edward has it then, too. And my sister Rosalie has Drama with you after lunch. I'm sure we'll all get along great!"

I can't help laughing. Her enthusiasm is contagious. "Does this brother of yours have light reddish-brownish hair by any chance?"

She nods, her smile getting even larger as she leans in closer. Then she freezes. She jolts back suddenly, her eyes shocked and surprised. I raise a brow and open my mouth to ask if she's alright but she jumps to answer my previous question as if nothing had happened.

"Yes, that was Edward." Her eyes flicker down to my schedule as she returns it to me. "You have Trig together with Mr. Varner first period."

For the entirety of class, Alice helps me take notes by translating just about everything Mr. Banner says into plain English. Every so often she looks off into space as though checking on something, then a second time like she's trying to make sense of a confounding puzzle. Before I can comment, she always returns to the present and explains whatever nonsense Mr. Banner is futilely trying to shove into my brain.

Once the bell rings, there's no doubt in my mind Alice is going to get me the highest grade I've ever gotten in a science class. Assuming we stay in Forks long enough to even get report cards, of course.

She leads me to the gym, the largest of the school's buildings, and introduces me to Coach Clapp. Like most gym teachers I've had, he's got more fat on him than muscle. He is kinder than others though and gives me the option of sitting out my first day. I politely decline as he hands me my new uniform.

By the time I finish changing and get back to the gym, everyone's being split into teams for indoor soccer. Alice sends me a wave from across the gym but Coach Clapp places me on another team. I return the wave before joining my group.

Lauren is there. Not being on a first name basis with anyone else, I go to her side and say hello.

"Are you any good at soccer?" She doesn't seem to care either way.

"Good enough, I guess. Anyone I should watch out for?" I ask scoping out the other team.

My eyes instantly latch onto the same boy from Trig. My brain stutters a moment, shocked to see him, before quickly shaking off its stupor.

 _Of course_ he's here. Alice said we all share Gym.

"Samantha Butler's pretty brutal," Lauren says somewhere at my side, "but she's on our team so whatever. Those boys over there," I follow her finger, "Kyle and Zac, tend to get really into it, especially with her, so keep an eye out. Also, just avoid Edward Cullen if you can."

As if he knows we're talking about him, Edward's head turns in our direction. I quickly give Lauren my full attention. I already stared at him obnoxiously in one class. If he caught me doing it again he might think I was some weird stalker.

Lauren has different plans. She pulls me a little closer and glances his way. She waits until Coach blows his whistle to start the games then points out the handsome boy.

"That's him. The pale, gorgeous one." Nearly everyone in Forks is sun-deprived but it's still obvious to whom she's referring. Edward's skin is lighter than any I've ever seen.

"Ah." He drifts over to the net pulling a bright, loose sleeveless shirt over his gym uniform. "That one."

She groans. "Of course they made _him_ goalie."

"Is he that good?"

She shrugs. "He can be. Most of the time he doesn't seem to care but you never know. It's just best to stay away from him if you can."

"Lauren! Amethyst!" Coach Clapp calls. "C'mon, girls! Get in the game!"

Several people pass me the ball out of courtesy but I never get close enough to the net to try and score. Samantha Butler, a girl with bright blue hair pulled into a high braid, plows through everyone in her way. She gets really into it with one of the boys Lauren pointed out before.

Somehow, despite desperately trying to avoid them, I end up caught in the middle and squashed on the floor.

"Penalty kick!" someone shouts. "Penalty kick for the new girl!"

Everyone fans out along the sides of the net while I move to stand in front of it. Edward looks straight at me, as does everyone, but he's much too far for me to see his eyes properly and get stuck again.

In fact, from this distance, I'm not entirely sure _why_ I got stuck in the first place. Sure, he's drop-dead gorgeous, but my brothers are good looking too. Thanks to them, I'm desensitized to handsome boys. I know firsthand how gross and annoying they can be when no one else is around. Up until now, that knowledge has helped me deter fanciful crushes on boys too good looking to be true.

The same has to be true with Edward. He's handsome, no denying that, but he's still human. Very soon I'll get used to his attractive features and be able to see the imperfect individual underneath. Especially if I end up being friends with his sisters.

Sisters will gladly give all the dirty details needed to knock their dumb brothers down a few pegs. I should know. I do it all the time.

Though, a small voice in the back of my head mulls, that could just make it worse. Isn't it our imperfections that make us who we are? Certain flaws could even be endearing. Maybe he snorts while he laughs or sticks out his tongue when he's focused. What if I like him _more_ for his imperfections?

On the contrary, what if his imperfections are something unforgivable? Maybe he chews with his mouth open. Or worse, he could be an unholy demon who insists on pineapple pizza like Chris and Dale. _Gasp!_ What if he doesn't like pizza _at all?_ Blasphemer! How could I ever fall for such a man?

My stomach protests. It's too close to lunchtime to be thinking about food. Especially pizza.

Sending Edward a small scowl – how dare he possibly not like pizza – I carefully set the ball in place and take several steps back. He gives me an odd look.

My eyes flicker between the left and right side of the net while I decide where to aim. Obnoxiously, the same invisible force from Trig starts circling my head again. Prodding at my mind, it requests entrance. An annoyed huff escapes me before I thrust the creature away and set my eyes on the right-hand corner of the net.

Edward's face scrunches a little. What the hell? Even the crease in his brow looks sculpted.

 _What if he doesn't_ have _any imperfections?_ the same little voice asks.

Maybe that's his imperfection. He's not human. There. Case closed.

I take a running start at the ball. Edward shifts to the right. Still staring that way, I pull my leg back and kick as hard as I can. Edward realizes instantly what I've done. Instead of the right-hand corner I'd been staring at, the ball whizzes forward and curves to the left. A look of surprise crosses his face as he moves to correct himself.

His arm shoots out to block it. For a fraction of a second, his body seems to dart to the other goalpost. The movement's so fast his body _blurs_. Then, as if he hadn't moved at all, he's back where he was, staring like a stone as my trick-shot hits the net.

I do a double take. I could've _sworn_ I saw him fly to the left but it's like he barely took a single step.

His eyes fly to mine so wide in surprise he nearly looks panicked. Like an animal backed into a cage, two breaths away from lashing out. My instincts kick in and adrenaline shoots through my limbs. Everything in me screams to run, get away. Raise a shield. Throw a lightning bolt. Run.  _Now!_

"Nice one, Amethyst!" Samantha Butler says slapping my shoulder, breaking my frenzied thoughts. "Not too many people can get past him when he's actually trying."

I sputter out a thanks. A bunch of other kids come around me, too. Congratulating me on getting past Edward's defenses and introducing (and reintroducing) themselves.

Regaining a level head, I swiftly dismiss my unwarranted panic. Run away? From _what?_ Some kid I surprised with a trick-shot? Ridiculous. Expose myself and my family because I threw a boy off his game in gym class? Even more ridiculous.

"That was an excellent shot," Samantha continues. "Do you play at all?"

"Just with my siblings sometimes. We all play pretty dirty, though."

Coach Clapp calls the games to an end and we start migrating towards the locker rooms.

"I'm Sam by the way," she says walking next to me.

"Nice to meet you, Sam. I like your hair."

She smiles. "Thanks. I've been dying it since I was 12. Hey, do you want to eat lunch with me and my friends?"

"Oh, that's—"

"She's already eating lunch with me, Butler." Lauren brushes up to my side. "You promised, remember, Amethyst?" she says with a sweet smile.

" _Er_ … Yeah, I remember." I thought she didn't care either way about my existence. Maybe the aloofness is just a cover for her shyness. As soon as the words leave my mouth, however, her kindness is replaced by smugness and then indifference. Maybe she just doesn't like having things taken from her.

The gym and locker rooms are attached to the cafeteria by a long hall. Lauren and I are two of the first to go through the lunch line. None of the food looks particularly appetizing, not even the pizza, but I take a slice and hope for the best. If it's terrible I might be able to forgive Edward for possibly disliking pizza.

In no time at all, the lunchroom fills with students, as does our table. Jessica hurries to take the seat next to me, looking a little out of breath. Soon Angela, Mike, and a few others join us, including a boy from my Bio class named Tyler.

"Word on the street is you got a goal past Edward Cullen," he says taking a seat.

"He was going easy on me," I insist. "Is that what people consider newsworthy in Forks?"

"It's a small school," he grins. "I'm guessing you've already heard all about the Cullens."

"They seem nice. I haven't met the third one yet."

"Third one?" Jessica sends a glance around the table.

"Yeah, Rosaline? Rosalie? Alice said we have the same 5th period."

" _Technically_ there's only three Cullens, but there's actually five of them," Mike explains.

At my confusion, he gestures for me to look past him. Doing so gets me an eyeful of the most painfully immaculate group of people I have ever seen in my life.

The first I notice is Edward – because it's impossible _not_ to notice him first – but my attention is quickly taken by the huge guy next to him. He's as big as a grizzly bear, hair dark and curly, with muscles so large he could probably crush my head using just his fingertips. The beautiful blonde he has his arm around must be Rosalie and— _damn_. It's a kick in the teeth just to look at her. She has a face and body that could— _should_ only exist in Photoshop. Yet here she is in all her glittering splendor. Destroying the self-confidence of girls everywhere one breath at a time.

Alice sits beside her looking small and pixyish. They don't look alike at all, one tall and blonde the other tiny and dark haired. She's not as outlandishly gorgeous as her sister either but still extraordinarily beautiful. She holds the hand of the last boy. Unlike Grizzly, he's muscular but lean. His wavy honey-blond hair falls over his eyes as he stares intently at the table before him.

"Oh. Five. How 'bout that?" I pause, staring at Rosalie again. "I think my self-esteem just got sucker punched."

"You get used to it," Angela says in a sympathetic voice.

My eyes round back to Edward. Of all the guys, he's the most boyish looking. Thin and somewhat lanky, perhaps a hair shorter than the one beside Alice. Is he the youngest? He and Alice are both in my grade, so it must be one of them. He's certainly the best-looking of the bunch, which is saying something. No, wait. The soul-crushing pain in my gut says that's Rosalie. He's the best-looking _boy_ of the bunch.

All five of them are as pale as the moon with purple crescents under their near-black eyes. Their faces, all of their features, are perfectly shaped and angular. But beyond that, they look nothing alike.

They're in the middle of a spirited discussion, speaking quickly with their food untouched. Edward shakes his head. An annoyed, nearly disgusted look rests on his face. His lips move so fast it's a wonder his siblings can follow what he says at all. Yet Grizzly responds with the same speed followed by Rosalie, whose face hints at offense.

Alice shakes her head at them. Her eyes flicker my way as she speaks and she catches me staring. She pauses, considers me for a fraction of a second, then gives me a friendly smile. The boy beside her takes notice and looks as well. The conversation at their table comes to an abrupt halt as all five of them set their gaze on me.

 _Whoops_. A small blush crawls up my cheeks. _Busted_.

My instincts tell me to hide or turn away. _Don't look them straight in the eye!_ part of me screams, but my curiosity insists on staring right back.

The Cullens' regard for me varies as vastly as their appearances. Alice seems warm and eager but the boy beside her is cautious at best. Rosalie looks haughty and disgruntled while Edward's brow wrinkles in frustrated bewilderment. Save for Alice, Grizzly's face is the most… _accepting_ of the group. Confused and somewhat skeptical but accepting nevertheless.

Either way, I send the group a quick smile and wave. A few of them share fleeting glances and words between themselves before slowly returning to their conversation. Their lips move at a slower, normal pace. Edward doesn't move.

He sends me a hard look. The furrow in his brow deepens and his pale lips form a thin line. He studies me intently, trying to crack a code on my face I wasn't previously aware of. It's a bit unnerving but I don't let myself turn away. In fact, I start to scowl, too. If he's the kind of guy whose pride gets so utterly wounded over a simple soccer goal, this pointless, mild attraction I feel towards him is going to die even sooner then I'd hoped.

He tilts his head a fraction of an inch, curiosity taking a greater hold on him. His frown softens slightly, inspiring mine to do the same, which only seems to confuse him further.

Once more, that persistent, curious force that's been following me all day returns. I shut my eyes to it, and Edward's gaze, and shake my head to dismiss it. It presses harder against my consciousness. Scrunching my face, I swat at the space in front of me. A wave of energy surges from my hand. It manages to knock the fog-creature back to… wherever it hides when it's not bothering me.

I pull out my tinted glass bottle and reapply the mixture to my wrists and neck. The force doesn't seem malevolent but it _is_ annoying. Perhaps this will help to keep it at bay. I nearly dab some onto my temples but decide against it. Norms don't put "perfume" on their temples.

"Wait," Jessica says in sudden realization. "You've actually, like… _spoken_ to the Cullens?"

"Only Alice. She's my lab partner."

Going back to the original conversation, my brain tries to wrap around the possibility of having five children in a short enough timespan for all of them to go to high school together. Then again, seeing them side-by-side, the only ones with any kind of kindred features are the blonds — and even _that's_ pushing it. Plus a few of them seem a little… _close_.

"Are they like… how are they all related?"

"Rosalie and Jasper are twins. Mrs. Cullen's their aunt or something and fosters them. The rest are all adopted. And they're all together. Like, _together_ together."

"Ah." That explains it.

I ignore her baiting and focus on what's really important in life: food. Taking a bite of my pizza, I consider how much food my family can go through in a week with just _four_ teenagers. Well, technically three now that Cy's 20 but whatever. His appetite hasn't changed so he still counts. I can't even _imagine_ having another mouth to feed. Especially if that mouth were connected to a body as big as Grizzly's.

My face pulls back in horrific realization. "Their grocery bill must be through the roof!"

A loud, raucous laugh comes from the direction of the Cullen table and a few people glance curiously their way. I turn just in time to see Rosalie whisper something harshly to Grizzly, who's not even trying to contain himself. The others smile then roll their eyes or shake their heads.

" _I_ heard," Jessica says in a cattier tone than before, demanding my attention return to her, "that Mrs. Cullen can't have kids and that's why she and Dr. Cullen adopt so many."

 _"So?"_ I ask sharply. "What's that got to do with anything?"

She flounders a moment, not expecting the sudden bite in my words. "Well… I mean… Don't you think that's weird?"

"Only as _'weird'_ as your apparent obsess—"

Lauren seizes my shoulder, cutting off my sharp retort. "Is _that_ your brother?" she asks in awe.

Ah, yes. Que the choir of angels. My brother strolls up to our table, dazzling smile in place. He introduces himself to the boys first, then the girls, giving me time to cool down.

"It's very nice to meet you all. I hope you're taking good care of my sister?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Lauren gives me a friendly squeeze and leans closer to me. There's more energy and emotion in her voice than I've heard all day. "She's so sweet."

"Yeah!" Jessica jumps in. "I'm so glad she agreed to sit with us."

"I am, too. Otherwise, I might not have had the chance to meet you all." Dale winks and I swear every girl in the room swoons.

Me? I gag.

He chuckles at my response. "Don't worry, sister mine." He ruffles my hair. "You're still prettiest in my eyes."

I swat his hand, scoffing. "Clearly you haven't seen Rosalie Cullen yet."

"Actually her last name is _Hale_ and I have. Alas, she's already found her true love, but so long as she is happy my misery matters not."

"Go spout bad poetry somewhere else."

"Or stay!" Jessica pleads. "I love poetry!"

I roll my eyes. She'd been complaining about it earlier in English.

"Would you like to join us for lunch?" Lauren asks. "I'm sure your twin wouldn't mind."

I scowl at her. It isn't her fault, but it bothers me to no end when we're lumped together as twins. We hardly look anything alike.

Dale's nearly blond, the gentle wave of his hair always perfectly in place. His figure is taller and sharper than mine. If he didn't put so much effort into his appearance and charm, some might call him gangly. Meanwhile, my untamable hair is a light but undeniable brown and my body is altogether average in height and frame. Though I know my appearance is by no means monstrous, comparing me (or anyone else) with Dale's glamour is just laughable.

Except maybe the Cullens.

The Cullens might be the only group of people I've ever seen who are actually _more_ good-looking than Dale. They probably don't use magic to look so good either, which gives them an added bonus.

" ** _We're not twins_. _We've got nine months between us._** _"_ Dale and I halt, wisely keeping our mouths shut.

It's one thing to say a sentence or two together… People think it's a funny, ironic coincidence. They brush it off and chuckle as my tablemates do now. But getting trapped in each other's words for ten sentences? Twenty? Our current record of one hundred and thirty-six? People start staring. Start whispering. Start considering explanations they'd otherwise call crazy.

"Thanks for the invite, Lauren," he says kindly, making sure it's something I can't echo, "but I'm already sitting with some of my own friends today. I just came to check on, Sunshine."

I stick my tongue out at him. He ruffles my hair again.

"Tomorrow maybe?" Angela asks shyly.

He grins. "Who am I to refuse the chance to see such beautiful smiles again?"

The girls giggle hopelessly as he winks and walks away. I groan and roll my eyes. All the guys at the table do the same.

I raise my juice to them, a toast, "Welcome to Hell, boys," and take a swing. "Well, this has been a swell time, gang," I gather my bag and tray, "but I ought to be on my way."

"Hang on!" Jessica says quickly grabbing her things. "You said you've got your fifth period with Rosalie, right? Drama? That's my next class, too!"

"Oh." I try not to grimace. "Goodie."

If she notices my lack of enthusiasm, she doesn't say anything. Though I doubt she notices anything right now. She's got that far away look most girls get after talking to Dale for the first time.

"He's _sooo_ cute."

"Uh huh."

"Like… _unbelievably_ cute."

"Sure."

"And so approachable! I mean, the Cullens are _gorgeous,_ of course, but you can't actually _talk_ to any of them. Dale is so…" She sighs wistfully then giggles. " _Charming._ "

You'd think a person would get used to girls gushing about their brother nonsensically but it's still as awkward and uncomfortable as always. He really needs to tone his glamour spells down a notch or two before he starts doing some serious brain damage.

Jessica manages to lead us to the correct classroom on autopilot. I consider making an excuse to run to my locker so I don't have to sit next to her and listen to her gab for the next hour, but she'd probably just save me a seat. Not only am I the new girl, I'm the "charming" new boy's beloved little sister. To girls like Jessica, that practically makes me royalty.

Thankfully Mrs. Taylor asks me to stand at the front of the class to introduce myself once the bell rings. As expected, however, Jessica keeps the seat next to her empty and sends daggers at anyone who even looks at it.

There are fewer desks in this room than most of my classes. _Maybe_ fifteen. Maybe. They're smaller than regular desks as well. Just enough surface area for a single notebook. I know from previous experience that the table pieces can be folded down, turning the mini-desks into simple chairs. That leaves plenty of room for the "stage" at the front of the room – a large platform maybe eight inches off the ground. Mrs. Taylor has a director's chair to the left of it and the podium she's currently standing behind to the right.

The warning bell rings and Rosalie steps gracefully into the room. Unperturbed by Jessica's glare – which gets less and less intimidating the closer the blonde gets – she takes "my" seat. Jessica's face falls dramatically and I have to turn around and chomp down on my lip to hide my laughter.

Mrs. Taylor gives me a very brief introduction before offering me the floor. I introduce myself in a similar fashion as earlier, amending it slightly to name a few of my favorite theatrical productions. Most are musicals and I'm pleased when Mrs. Taylor hasn't heard of two of them. After giving a brief synopsis both, she releases me to find a seat.

Of the fifteen or so mini-desks in the room only three remain. One is in the back, beside a group of girls who might be seniors and look like the type to be completely besotted with Dale. Another is beside one of the boys who nearly flattened me in gym. The last is on the other side of Rosalie Hale.

"You're Rosalie, right?" I offer her my hand. "I'm Amethyst."

"I know who you are." She shakes it lightly, somewhat aloof. Her skin is as cold, pale, and firm as Alice's. "You're that flirt's sister."

"Ah, yes. My favorite reputation: that flirt's sister. Please tell me he didn't try to confess his undying love for you in the hall. He has zero self-control when he sees pretty girls."

A small smile finds its way to her face. She forces it down. "No. It was during English class."

" _Oh, jeez_ ," I groan. "Sorry. His pea-brain probably short-circuited when he saw you."

She fights another tiny smile and shrugs. "That's fine. I think more people should fall to their knees and recite sonnets when they see me."

I snort. "I'm sure Dale will gladly do so for as long as you let him." Alice's warning about him getting a bloody nose rings in my head. "Was your boyfriend mad when he heard?"

"Actually, he was sitting right next to me when it happened."

My face drains. "You're kidding." I try to imagine my beanpole of a brother running from a pissed off Grizzly. Despite his long legs, the scene does not end well for him.

"No, but once he realized I was spoken for he told Emmett a woman such as myself should be worshiped and that he'd be very sorry if he ever heard I was being treated otherwise."

We both scoff, finding the threat laughable. True, we have some tricks up our sleeves, but only my idiot brother would say something that dumb to the face of someone that much bigger than him.

"Please tell me Emmett has a good sense of humor?"

"He found the whole thing hilarious."

I shake my head and mumble in thanks. The last thing we need is Dale's obsession with _love and beauty_ to procure a hospital bill.

Rosalie and I continue to chat on and off during class. It's a bit disappointing we aren't hitting it off like I assumed we might, but it's not from a lack of trying on my part. For whatever reason, she's quite set on not being anything more than polite with me. She forces herself to scowl whenever I make a quip and keeps judging me silently from the corner of her eye.

With a slightly bitter look on her face, she casually asks if I like to dance.

"Oh, I love dancing. I dance with my siblings all the time."

She scans lazily through her notebook. "Do you waltz?"

That throws me for a second. Waltzing's not usually the first thing people suggest. Usually it's ballet or tap dancing or, in the case of some boys, something more provocative.

She glances over at me, a curious and critical glimmer in her not-quite-black eyes. For not being related, the Cullens sure do have a lot of interesting little traits that tie them together.

"Yes, actually," I say slowly. "Dale and I taught each other when we were younger. He wanted to impress a girl," she isn't surprised, "but we tend to dance more in sync with each other than with other people. Why do you ask?"

She returns to flipping through her notebook, trying to act indifferent. "No reason."

I don't believe her but can't fathom why anyone would need to hide why they were asking about _waltzing_. Who even knows how to waltz these days? Is she embarrassed to talk about something most people our age consider old-fashioned?

"Do you know how to waltz, Rosalie?"

She nods, not lifting her gaze from the paper.

"Do you and Emmett waltz together?"

For once, she does not fight her smile. Her face melts with her memories. She and Emmett must have something special. I don't think I've ever seen someone look that deeply in love before. Not outside a Hollywood film anyway. It makes her beauty even more painfully apparent and my self-esteem gets pummeled into the dirt.

"Sometimes we do." She whispers it like a secret close to her heart. One she would shout to the high heavens if it weren't so precious.

I smile, her happiness infectious. "Is he any good?"

She nods, still smiling, and giggles. " _Now_ he is. He was atrocious when I first taught him."

I chuckle as well, imagining big ol' Grizzly trying to waltz for the first time. I choose my next words carefully, making sure not to lump him in with her siblings. Lord only knows how awkward it must be to explain to people, like Jessica for instance, that dating each other was in no way wrong or immoral. A bit strange, sure, but not wrong.

"Do any of your siblings know how to waltz? Like Edward or—"

Rosalie snaps her head in my direction, scornful eyes ablaze. The sudden shift in her demeanor twists her from divine to demonic. I yelp at the sight and tumble out of my seat.

Everyone's eyes are on me in an instant. A handful of people snicker. Mrs. Taylors asks if I'm alright.

"Y-Yeah. Just… thought I saw a spider."

A few of the girls sitting closest to me shoot out of their seats shrieking, demanding to know where. Mrs. Taylor tries to calm them while others in the class roll their eyes. Some even shout for them to shut up and mock them for freaking out.

Amidst the chaos, the bell rings and Rosalie strides out without so much as a glance in my direction. I slip out as well and hurry towards my last class of the day.

Dale and I cross paths as he heads to Mrs. Taylor's room. Surrounded by a gaggle of girls, it's a wonder he even has the time to notice me and wave. Rather than return it, I shake my head at him. He'll tone it down soon enough, I know, but the first few weeks at a new school are always annoying as hell. He takes his first impressions _very_ seriously no matter how short a time we might stay somewhere.

There's an abundance of familiar faces in Government. Samantha, with her blue hair, is the easiest to recognize. After turning in my note to Mr. Jefferson, I sit beside her. She introduces me to the boy from drama who nearly trampled me in gym, Zac, and their friend Kyle, who also tried to trample me in gym. Eventually, Tyler comes in and sits with us as well.

Government does not hold my attention as well as a proper history class might. Especially not with Sam and Kyle debating everything Mr. Jefferson says and Zac and Tyler chatting with me the entire time. I try to keep up with them but my focus is back on Rosalie and her harsh reaction.

I run our conversation through my head six, seven times. She and I got along on some level. That seems to be her biggest issue with me somehow. When we found something we both enjoyed, something most high schoolers don't have an interest in, I thought maybe I could convince her to move past that. But the look she gave me… I shudder at the memory of it.

An image of the Cullens staring me down at lunch resurfaces. Confused, cautious, curious… Rosalie looked huffy then, too. Was that when she decided not to like me? Edward was also upset about something. I thought it was leftover pettiness from the soccer game but maybe it was something else. Maybe he's decided not to like me as well.

I shake my head at the thought. Why does it even matter? I haven't even spoken to him yet. If Edward Cullen chose not to like me before even properly meeting me then that's his problem, not mine. In fact, it would help with _my_ problem of forming the beginnings of an improbable, inexcusable crush on him.

We decided a long time ago that I'm too dangerous for that kind of nonsense. All it would do is give malicious forces another weakness to expose. Either they would hurt the person I cared about to get to me or I would get hurt or killed and they would be powerless to stop it. For me, being in a relationship like that could only ever end in tragedy.

Even so, the thought of him disliking me is hard to swallow. There's something about him I can't quite put my finger on. The eyes are the window to the soul and we couldn't tear ours away from each other. Doesn't that mean something?

Leaning back in my seat I consider the possibility of destiny and fate. Is it possible Edward and I were meant to meet? That our eyes locking has opened a new world of possibilities? Is Fate finally smiling down on me?

I scoff quietly. Yeah, right.

Fate is never kind to me. My fate was to be born into a family of magic, _have too much magic_ , be hunted for it, and die. My whole life, and the lives of everyone around me, revolves around fighting that last part for as long as possible.

The universe would only ever present me a handsome stranger to taunt and distract me. To flaunt what I can never have. If a boy ever truly gave me his heart, he'd be signing himself away to suffering and Death. And that's just not fair. Just because I'm going to die doesn't mean anyone else has to.

Kyle says something and the whole class teeters. Resigned to my end, I force a hollow laugh and remove all thoughts of Edward Cullen from my mind forevermore.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You just read the longest first chapter of a story I've ever written. Congrats! Was it worth it?
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you like about the story so far or what could be improved!


	2. Ooo, What a Shocker!

Okay, that whole “forevermore” thing was total bullshit.

Not only do I proceed to think about Edward for the rest of class, but when Dale and I meet up in front of the main office it takes everything in me to force thoughts of Rosalie and Alice in next to him. The last thing I need is the wannabe love-guru to realize I’ve stumbled into a crush-at-first-sight before I’ve had the time to quash it.

He’s the only one in the family who thinks me falling for someone is a good idea. In fact, he’d like nothing more than for _all_ of us to fall for someone. He thinks it could make us happier and give us a sense of purpose in our lives. Outside of, you know, keeping ourselves and our family alive.

It’s ridiculous. Why bother wasting our time, energy, and attention on someone we’ll have to leave behind in a few months’ time? Sure, maybe you’re a _little_ happier for a brief time, but it makes more sense to be focused on keeping each other safe.

Chris and Cypress have it easy. If they start thinking someone is cute, they can just keep their mouths shut. Sometimes Dale can pick up on one of their crushes, but usually he's none the wiser. But for me? Heck. Given how our minds work, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows I can’t shake those beautiful black-gold—

My thoughts jump to important things I’ve learned today: people’s names, the school’s layout, which classes and teachers I do and don’t like.

Dale gives me a few odd looks before heading in. He’s aware that I’m trying to hide something from him but thankfully doesn’t dwell on it. We have more important things to focus on right now.

As per the plan, he charms the ever-loving pants off the poor receptionist while I sneak over to the corkboard of after-school opportunities. I briskly skim the scattered fliers, making sure to ignore any that only offer extra credit or the “self-fulfilling reward” of hands-on experience.

It doesn’t take long to collect the ads promising paid work and bid Ms. Cope a good evening. We tuck ourselves against a wall of lockers to avoid the rain and go over them in greater detail. We make the useless ones into paper hats and airplanes. Naturally, Dale’s are better than mine.

Lucky bastard has a talent in crafting and creating; his magic fuses into anything he makes, bringing out the greatest potential of whatever substance he works with. He can turn a cup of instant noodles into 5-star ramen just by stirring the water clockwise thrice.

Dale and I debate silently over the pros and cons of each ad until we’re down to the three we’ll actually be applying for. One is for a gas station only a street or two down from the school. Another is for a family run sports store, which is a little further down the highway but pays the best. The third is waiting tables at a diner. Despite offering the least amount of pay, we know waiting tables would put more food on the table and bring in extra money with tips

The discussion keeps our minds busy until Cy picks us up and asks how our days went.

“Mine was okay. Most of my classmates were nice. Dale was hitting on everything that moved, per usual.”

“Not _everything_ that moved,” he argues from the front seat. I hum skeptically but he ignores me. “My day was wonderful. I made a bunch of new friends.”

“All girls, I bet.”

“Don’t hate the love, Sunshine. If you could find at least _one_ boy as lovely as I find every woman you _might_ be able to understand.”

My mind turns to Edward. His not-quite-black eyes, his unruly copper-bronze hair, his perfect features… I smash Mike’s face into the mix. His not-as-interesting blue eyes, his everyday hair, and average features. Then Tyler’s face, and Zac’s, and Kyle’s, and a few others whose names I can’t recall. I even throw in a face or two from our last school.

Dale chuckles, thinking I’m trying to find the “loveliness” he was talking about.

We don’t see or hear each other’s thoughts, exactly — though we can if we put enough effort into it. Rather, we’re just aware of the other’s mind. Sensing their wants, beliefs, and feelings almost as easily as we do our own. It can make keeping secrets a real challenge.

Dale senses my frustration and starts getting suspicious. He wonders what exactly it is I don’t want him knowing.

Luckily (sort of), Chris is a moping mess when we get back to the motel and that distracts everyone for a while. Dale heats up some food while Cypress and I try to convince her Forks isn’t a complete hellhole.

“You can miss one more day this week if you really think you need it,” I tell her, “but no more after that. I’ll even make it sunny for you.”

“This has nothing to do with magic,” she snaps. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

I roll my eyes. Fine. Yes. When it’s just the four of us, my being Head Witch only means something in matters of magic. Otherwise, it’s technically Cypress who’s in charge. But she doesn’t need to be so snippy about it.

“Your education is important, Chrissy,” Cypress argues. “If you don’t keep your grades up, we might not be able to afford to send you to college.”

“We live in a fucking motel room. We can’t afford college for any of us.”

“I was going to college,” he says a little softer than before.

“Yeah, and then you had to drop out.”

Despite being aimed at the floor, I can feel the intensity of Chris’s glare. She blames me for all of this. The different schools, the moving around, Mom chasing dead-end trails, Dad dead and gone, the impossibility of a normal life…

“Speaking of living in motels,” I say pushing aside the guilt, “did any of your applications get a response?”

Cy sighs and rubs his neck tiredly. He glances at his grease-covered fingers and frowns before wiping them on his equally dirty jeans.

“One this morning.”

Chris perks up. “Really? Which one?”

He shrugs. “The one on Nottingham Way.”

“Is that the one near the school?”

“Kind of. It’s a bit further from the highway and it wasn’t in the best shape. I really only applied because the rent was cheap…”

Dale snorts on the other side of the room. “Who cares? It’s not like we can afford anything other than cheap. Let’s just get out of this crap box and fix it up ourselves. I’m sick of sleeping in a bathtub or next to _you_ every night.”

I rub a phantom soreness in my shoulder. Last night was my turn in the tub so tonight I get to sleep in a bed with Chris.

Because of how our minds work, Dale and I have to avoid being too close to each other when we’re unconscious. It melds our minds together further and makes it harder for us to have our own thoughts. Once, in the earlier days of being mind-melded, we synchronized so much we nearly lost our individual thoughts completely. No one wants to go through that again. Especially not Dale and I.

“I hate to break it to you,” Cy mutters, “but it’s only two bedrooms. Unless someone splits into the attic, we’ll all still be sharing beds.” He says it as a joke but the rest of us jump at the chance.

“ **I’ll take the attic**!” Dale, _Chris_ , and I shout together. We give her a look – me surprised, Dale approving – but she continues to stare Cy down.

He shakes his head. “You two,” he gestures Dale and I, “aren’t sharing the attic. You can’t sleep in the same room.”

“ **We know that** —”

“—but Chris and I can,” I continue. “If it’s big enough, we could even split the room in half with a sheet or something.”

“Yeah!” she agrees excitedly. Her big blue eyes shine up at me for a moment, glowing even brighter with glee, before she turns them on Cy.

“Please, Cy? Please, please, _please?_ I’m so sick of motels!”

“ _Pleeeeeease!”_ Dale begs, latching on to one of his legs. “Quick, Chris, grab the other!”

She does as she’s told. _Giggling_. It’s an unusual thing to hear from her. The young, sweet sound catches the rest of us off guard.

Cypress nearly tumbles over from their grip. He stares down at them incredulously but their matching blue eyes – one pair glowing slightly – shine up at him and start to melt his resolve.

He looks to me for an answer. This has nothing to do with magic but that doesn’t matter to him. In his eyes, when Mom’s gone, he’s in charge of keeping us alive and I’m in charge of making the big decisions.

“Chris and I take the attic.”

Our siblings shriek with glee.

“What if the roof leaks?” Cy asks, ever practical.

I shrug. “We’ll fix it.”

“What if there’s no insulation up there?”

I twiddle my fingers at him like a Shakespearian hag. “We’ll _fix_ it.”

He shakes his head, not caring for magical solutions. “What if it’s too small?”

“Can’t be much smaller than this room.”

“What if there’s a huge nest of spiders up there?”

“I’ll burn the house down.”

Cy pauses his questioning and stares at me a moment. He looks down at Chris and Dale. The two pout up at him, looking like small, whimpering puppies. Dale even starts tearing up.

“What am I going to do with you three?” Cypress sighs deeply before giving in to a small smile.

We all scream and knock him down with hugs.

* * *

 

Chris eventually takes me up on my deal. One more day to recuperate before jumping in with the wolves — and a full day of sunshine when she does.

As if the sky knows it won’t be in control of itself tomorrow, the rain comes down in torrents. The race to the car is akin to running through a waterfall and Dale, Cy, and I are hopelessly soaked by the time we scramble in.

Once we get to the school, Dale and I part ways immediately. He runs to the shelter closest to the parking lot while I sprint to building 5. There’s no point in hiding from the rain just to get drenched a second time.

Unsurprisingly, because we’re so early today, my classroom is still locked up tight. Wet and cold as hell I slump against the nearby lockers and take out my textbook. Bored, I pull out Mom’s potion and roll some across my wrists and neck. The warm yet biting scent flows into the air taking my mind off the cold.

Fifteen minutes before the first bell, Mr. Varner arrives and lets us both in. He leaves the door wide open for other students who seek refuge. Eventually, the first bell rings and the room fills with sopping wet children.

Mike takes a seat beside me with his blond hair dripping. “Is this enough rain for you?”

“Not nearly, no. I like the rain.”

I shriek as Mike shakes his head like a wet dog. The girl in front of him – Marissa, I think – cries out as well. He apologizes to her quickly as I wipe myself off. Angela glances at me and Mike as she comes down the aisle and smiles.

“Did he get you wet?” she knowingly asks as she takes her seat.

“A common occurrence, I take it?”

She nods, looking happy to have missed it this time around.

“You _said_ you liked the rain,” he defends.

“Yes, I like the _rain,_ Mike. Not getting _wet!”_

He chuckles. “Well, I hope you have an umbrella then. I think it’s supposed to downpour like this for the next few days.” He laughs at my horrorstruck features.

“You’re _kidding_.”

“I think it’s going to be like this until Friday afternoon,” Angela says.

I groan and drop my head against my desk. Tomorrow is going to be more difficult than I thought.

“What’s the matter, Valley Girl, too much rain?”

I turn my head towards him skeptically. “Valley Girl?”

“Yeah, you know…” His cheeks go pink. “You said you lived in the San Fernando Valley…”

“Oh.” I pause for a second. “Yeah, but I barely even lived there a year.”

His blush deepens as the final bell rings. “I can just stick to Amethyst if you want.”

“I guess it’s better than Fernando,” I tease, swiping some excess beads of water in his direction, “but Am works, too.”

“Okay, Am.” He smiles brightly.

Mr. Varner calls attention to the class and asks us to pass in our homework. I face forward in my seat adamant to not get caught chatting the second day in a row. From the corner of my eye, I see Edward hand in his paper.

 _Crap_. With all the excitement about the possible house and the weather, I forgot all about my little not-crush. I purposefully bring my notebook closer to my face to keep it that way. As Mr. Varner starts the lesson, I slowly skim through its pages.

Switching to a school a few lessons behind is always better than switching to one a few lessons ahead. The buffer is great but it would be nice if there were something to focus on other than not looking at someone.

I fidget with my pencil, flicking it between my fingers as I let my mind wander. It goes over a few mundane things… groceries, resumes, bills… Eventually, it reaches the house we might get on Nottingham Way.

None of us have seen it in person, so what it really looks like will be a surprise, but it seems nice enough online. The outside paint is an off yellow color and the house itself has a sort of L-like shape. Cypress likes the fireplace but my favorite thing so far is the front porch. More specifically the two-seater swing that hangs from the porch ceiling.

I also like the windows on the roof. The house was listed as a single story with ample attic space and those windows look large enough to climb out of. Already I can imagine the late night chats the four of us might have while stargazing on the roof.

Still fiddling my pencil, I wonder where the entrance to the attic could be. In the middle of the hall? The living room? One of the boys’ rooms? It would be nice to just leave the ladder down all the time but if it’s large or in an awkward place that might not be the best option.

My gaze absentmindedly drifts to the side. All of a sudden, onyx and gold hit me like lightning. Too late I realize I’ve allowed myself to look at Edward freaking Cullen.

Exasperated with my foolishness, I find myself stuck again. Our eyes catch too easily for it to be a coincidence. My rational side attempts to stomp down the girlish glee flailing at the idea. But he’s as impossibly handsome as he was yesterday. It isn’t a fair fight.

Suddenly, something small and thin flies out and hits him square in the chest. It breaks the hold we have on each other. He frowns at the thing. Curious, I peek over the desk between us to see what it is. My eyes widen as Edward lowers a pale hand and picks my pencil off the floor. He sends me a peculiar look.

I shrug sheepishly as a blush rises. “ _Sorry_ ,” I mouth.

He gives me a forgiving smile. It’s small and restrained but nevertheless breathtaking. It’s the first time I’ve seen him do anything more than frown or scowl. My heart flips at the sight and a rush of invigorated energy buzzes through my veins. No wonder girls turn into a giggling mess around the boys they like.

His eyes flicker towards the front of the class before leaning towards me, offering the pencil back. My hand reaches out automatically. His fingers scarcely touch mine in the exchange but the icy feeling against my skin is unmistakable. My heart trills at the contact and a sharp electric charge escapes my fingers.

_“Ah!”_

Our hands separate instantly. The tips of my middle and forefinger are singed. My pencil is charred and splintered. As fast as I can, I stuff it into my bag and hide my fingers in a fist.

Shit. _Shit._ I just shocked him. I just _shocked_ a Norm. Not a little taste of static either. No, that was pure voltage. A low dose, not enough to do any lasting damage, but enough to be inexcusably abnormal. He has to know that that wasn’t normal — that _I’m_ not normal.

My heart beats faster and faster. I stare at my fist unable to look at him. Why isn’t he screaming? Isn’t he in pain? If I managed to hurt _myself_ , I can’t even imagine what happened to Edward.

Storms are second nature to me. Electricity in particular is a talent of mine. A talent. A magical ability as natural as breathing. _Too_ natural. Too easy to let slip. It’s only the second day here and I’m already making a mess—

“Miss Dagwood.”

 _“Yes!”_ I shriek.

Mr. Varner gives me an unimpressed look as a few people snicker. “Would you come to the board and solve this problem for the class?”

I stumble to my feet and snatch up my notebook with my good hand.

Don’t panic. Breath. Don’t panic. Breath. Don’t panic—

“Leave your notes there.”

Mr. Varner doesn’t see my already wide eyes grow the size of dinner plates. He’s too busy erasing everything from the board but the problem he wants me to solve. Several people groan. Mike complains he hasn’t finished writing his notes yet.

“If you were paying attention like you were supposed to, Mr. Newton, you would be more than finished by now.”

He snaps his fingers at me like a dog then points at the space in front of the whiteboard.

Static races through my fingers. I drop my notebook unceremoniously before the sparks can reach it. I shove my hands under my arms and storm to the space Mr. Varner pointed. I snatch up a marker and glare at the board.

With my anxiety sky high I can barely read the problem let alone solve it. I stare at the numbers and shapes willing myself to focus. The sooner I finish this, the sooner I can go back to panicking without everyone watching.

It takes an eternity. With my fingers still burning and mind whirling, everything takes me much longer than it should. Reading, thinking, writing…

Mr. Varner tilts his head thoughtfully at my work once I finish.

“Would anyone like to come up here and correct Ms. Dagwood’s error?” he asks scanning the room for volunteers.

My face scrunches as I turn back to the board. My eyes go over the problem and my solution once more. I don’t see any mistakes. I erase what I think could _maybe_ be the issue and work through it once more. But now the answer doesn’t make any sense. Less sense than the first one being wrong at all. I erase it and try again.

“No volunteers? Alright then, how about…” Mr. Varner goes silent for a moment. Sort of dumbfounded he says, “Yes. Go right ahead.”

The stupid creature from yesterday – the annoying, curious, all-encompassing fog-like whatever-it-is – comes back. It leans heavily on the barrier keeping it from my thoughts, further muddling my concentration. I swat at the space around my temple to send it on its way. The wave of energy causes it to tumble over itself and get swept away with the tide. It must recognize the move from yesterday though because it comes back after only a few short moments.

Stupid, stinkin’, annoying little—

“May I?”

I jolt at the smooth voice. My annoyance with the foggy pest is the only thing that keeps me grounded enough _not_ to scream and throw my marker at the boy behind me. I didn’t even hear him walk up to the board. With a huff, I cap the marker and turn around only to immediately gasp and stare at the floor.

Edward’s hand stays in my line of vision, asking for the marker. I switch hands behind my back before offering it to him.

Holding my breath, I keep everything contained. My grip is limited to the absolute edge of the marker, touching it only as much as necessary. There are no mistakes this time around. Edward’s hand and mine don’t touch at all.

He stares at me as I take several steps back. It’s only when he focuses on the board that I let myself breathe again. He erases some of my work and writes down a set of numbers closer to my original solution.

He doesn’t have any trouble using his hand. In fact, his penmanship flows with a swift and graceful ease, putting mine to absolute shame. Which is wrong. That _should_ be the hand I zapped. It should be, I don’t know, in pain or something. Burning maybe. Tender, at the absolute least. _Mine_ is still tender. How is his not?

I curl my hand around my mouth and face the board fully. It’s a wonderful rendition of a math enthusiast fully immersed. As discretely as I can, I dab my hurt fingers on the tip of my tongue. The broken skin tingles as it slowly melds it back together.

Still in character, I hum and walk to the other side of Edward. Pretending to consider his work, I check out his other hand but that one’s fine too. It has to be the one he’s writing with.

This doesn’t make any sense. Why is he okay? I mean, I’m glad he’s okay. If I somehow managed to only zap myself that would be great. I wouldn’t have to worry about a Norm discovering my true nature. But how was I – _me_ of all magical people – singed by my magic and he not? My pencil didn’t come out unscathed. How did he?

The bell rings.

I move my hand from my mouth as he turns around. My fingers hide in a fist once more as they heal. Edward looks straight at them. His curious not-black eyes rise to mine. The fog-pest continues circling my mind, somehow feeling heavier than before. Stronger. Or maybe it’s my walls weakening under the combined strain of the horrible reality I’m facing.

He looked right at them. My fingers. The ones that zapped him.

He knows.

My magic fragments violently. My body shivers as panic unravels my self-control. A burning heat spreads into my consciousness but I don’t have any time to ponder it. There are much, _much_ bigger things to be worrying out about. Like why Edward’s eyes just lit up in surprise.

What? What did I give away? What did I do? And why isn’t he hurt, damn it? He _has_ to be hurt. He’s just faking it. Hiding the burns. I don’t know how, but it just doesn’t make sense any other way. He felt that shock. He had to. Why else would he look at my hand? And if he felt it, then it had to hurt him. There’s no way it couldn’t have.

His eyes make it obvious. He’s searching for answers. Edward knows something’s not right with me. Is he waiting for the room to clear before bombarding me with questions? Is he going to corner me in the hall? Why, why, _why_ do I have to be such a fuck up?

How many towns have we gone through? How many schools? How many lies? There’s so many even _I’ve_ lost count. They fly through my mind. All the faces, names, places blur together maddeningly.

Edward raises a brow and tilts his head a fraction.

What _now?_ What the hell is my face giving away? I try to keep it as blank as possible— something I’m _supposed_ to be good at.

We can’t leave yet. This is where Mom is supposed to be. We can’t leave yet. We _can’t_. But if he figures out—

No, we can’t leave.

But if he has even an inkling—

 _No_. We can’t leave without Mom.

The last time I saw her was months ago. She held me close and kissed me like she might never see me again — a very real possibility for so many reasons. She brushed the hair out of my face, the same color as hers but untamable like my father’s. Looked at me with the same sad blue eyes she passed on to Chris and Dale and told me she loved me. Warned me to be careful and to keep my siblings safe.

Then she got into her car and left in the dead of night. Just like she always does.

I understand being a good mother sometimes means leaving your children behind. I accept that her search involves people far too dangerous to know of my existence. But I miss her. My heart aches with the possibility of never seeing her again.

She’s an expert at disappearing off the face of the earth. Her work requires it. My continued existence is a result of it. We already had to leave the San Fernando Valley, the place we were supposed to wait for her. If we abandon our backup plan…

To my unfathomable surprise, Edward’s expression melts into something… sympathetic. Rather than frustration or a demand for answers, his eyes show a deep compassion. It might be my imagination, but his eyes also seem lighter than before. He glances down quickly.

I keep my face as still as I can. My gaze level. Don’t show weakness. No panic, no fear. But on the inside I’m begging every higher power for help.

 _Please_ just let him think I’m normal _._ Please don’t have him ask me anything. Don’t let him fit any pieces together. Just let him think of it as a weird happenstance and move on with his life. _Please._

He didn’t get hurt. Maybe be just barely felt a little shock. Maybe I somehow managed to reroute the shock and instead of hitting him it just turned around and bit me instead and oh who am I kidding he knows. He knows. He knows.

Edward frowns, looking torn. I silently beg the universe for a sliver of luck. An excuse. A joke to brush it off. Anything that would let him overlook everything _._ It’s a fool’s wish, I know, but we can’t leave yet. _We can’t_.

After an agonizingly long moment, he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth and I steel myself.

“I… apologize for shocking you earlier.”

Shit, this is it. Where is Dale’s class? How fast can we get out of here? What—

…

…

Wait.

…

…

_What?_

“My brothers and I were wrestling earlier.” He speaks quickly but his words are diligently chosen. “We started to shock each other. I didn’t realize I had so much charge left.”

He…

He thinks _he_ did that?

I can’t form a proper response. My mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out.

Edward keeps his head down ashamedly. He’s faking it. He has to be. There’s no _way_ he thinks he did that.

He shifts in a way that’s meant to be awkward but ends up looking poised.

“I truly am sorry.” His black-gold eyes delve into mine. “Can we pretend it never happened?”

I blink rapidly as a sudden rush of lightheadedness hits me. My heart rate skyrockets at the realization. He doesn’t think he did it. He _knows_ he didn’t. But he’s choosing to… overlook it? Is he giving me a second chance?

At once I can see that he is. Words can hardly explain what I feel. The relief washes over me like a drug. All my worry and panic fades into grateful joy. My eyes nearly water from the sudden lift of burdens. I’m so happy, so euphoric with relief I could kiss him.

The heat in my head dissipates as I regain control over myself. Edward frowns slightly. The fog-creature swirls lethargically around my head. It almost seems disappointed. My blissful state is empowering. I’m able to shoo it away completely with little more than a thought.

“Well, I almost impaled you earlier,” I kid, grinning a little too wide. “And got called out in front of the whole class for not paying attention… This morning not happening would be nice,” I say nodding.

Edward’s face twitches into a small half-smile. Slowly and carefully, as if afraid to startle a fragile babe, he goes back to his seat to collect his things. I go to do the same then glare at my empty seat.

“Angela Weber took your things with her.”

I glance over at Edward as he tosses on his backpack.

“She did? When?”

He shrugs. “While we were talking.”

“Oh.” When did he have the time to notice? Either way, I’ll have to thank her.

Mr. Varner sits at his desk looking somewhat awkward. On the board beside him, Edward’s elegant script is mixed with my jagged scrawl. Looking at it now, my mistake was simple but not obvious. A very tiny but insurmountably important detail had slipped my notice. Story of my life.

I sigh and the curious fog-creature returns.

“Do you understand it now?” Edward asks at the door.

“Don’t know how I missed something so important.” The creature is not as adamant as before but I still wave it away as I hurry into my coat.

“You’re only human,” he offers with a small frown.

I manage to contain my scoff but not the smirk. Yes, I’m human, but there’s nothing _“only”_ about it.

“Aren’t we all?” I say in mock contemplation, grinning a little too wide.

The warning bell rings. Realizing just how far I am from English, I barely manage a quick “Later!” as I start sprinting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, this is actually only half of chapter two. But I split it up because 10,000 words per chapter is just ridiculous.
> 
> Do you think this is a better length or do super long chapters not frighten you? Was there anything you particularly liked or disliked in the chapter?


	3. A Sadistic Serenade

Jessica brightens like a 1000 watt bulb when I fly into class at the last possible second. She repeatedly smacks the empty seat beside her as she grins.

“So… Edward Cullen?” she asks as I take the seat.

I send Angela an irritated look and she responds with an apologetic grimace.

Jessica spends the rest of class trying to unearth juicy details from Edward and I’s conversation. Retracting everything I _cannot_ tell a Norm, it turns out to be a very standard, unmemorable exchange. Jessica isn’t buying it though. She keeps insisting there must be more to it, that Edward Cullen doesn’t just talk to girls for no reason.

_“Nothing_ happened,” I say for the millionth time. “He corrected my work, apologized, and asked if I understood the problem. That’s _it!_ I was only running late because got distracted by his face.”

“I totally understand,” she says nodding in a sympathetic fashion. “He’s totally hot. I mean, just _look_ at his hair. But don’t waste your time on him,” she huffs. “He doesn’t date. Apparently, no one at this school is good enough for him.”

I nod picking up on the personal resentment. She must’ve had her eye on him at some point. Can’t say I blame her. He’s quite handsome. In fact, thanks to Dale, it’s hard to imagine someone that good-looking _not_ wanting to seduce everything that moves. Dale _lives_ for that sort of thing and I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of enduring his mind during each short-lived flame and every broken heart.

 “Well, I wasn’t going to anyway,” I tell her. “I don’t really date either.”

“Never would’ve guessed,” Lauren says to herself as she continues to all but ignore Jessica and I. Her voice is too low for me to tell whether or not she’s being sarcastic.

“Why not?” Angela asks, her genuineness and interest in the conversation much more evident.

“We move around a lot,” I say. Plus I don’t want to be responsible for someone’s death and/or suffering. No big deal or anything.

“Have you ever thought about long distance?” she suggests. “I know they say it’s hard but… if you really like someone it _is_ an option.”

I smile at her kindness then shrug. “When you’ve got someone like Dale around, you get pretty sick of the dating scene even when you’re not part of it.”

“He’s still sitting with us, right?” Jessica asks ignoring everything else I’ve said.

I nod, sighing heavily. She and Lauren squeal with excitement. Mr. Mason calls them out on it and they remain relatively quiet for the rest of class.

The three walk me to Biology again before heading to their own classes. Despite the fairly straight shot between the two classrooms, Alice is somehow already at our desk, pouting. I give her a little wave and she returns it with a guilty look.

“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” she says as soon as I sit down. “You and Rosalie would have gotten along fine if I hadn’t said anything.”

It takes a moment for me to figure out what she’s talking about when a vision of Rosalie’s sudden wrath hits me. I shiver at the memory. Right. That happened. I shrug, trying not to care.

When I was younger, I tried very hard to be friends with everyone at every new school. I stopped wasting my time after the third elementary school. There’s no point in expending the energy when you live like we do. Whoever doesn’t like you, doesn’t like you; whoever does, you stick with until it’s time to move. Wash, rinse, and repeat.

“That’s okay. My sister’s the same way with food. I tell her she’d really like something and she makes it her mission to get it banned from supermarkets everywhere without even trying it.”

Her face opens in surprise. “You have a sister?”

“And another brother,” I say nodding. “He’s the oldest and she’s the youngest. She hasn’t been to school yet but she’ll be coming tomorrow.”

Alice is shocked by this revelation. A haze falls over her eyes. She moves them up and around like she’s searching for something. She frowns, frustrated for not finding whatever it is.

“I didn’t realize you had any other siblings,” she says sounding disappointed in herself/

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it,” I offer. “I thought it was just you, Rosalie, and Edward until someone pointed out the rest of you.”

She nods but doesn’t seem to take it to heart.

Like yesterday, she spends all of class helping me take wonderful sense-making notes. She also does the same looking-off-in-the-distance thing. A few times she smiles before coming back to my aide but mostly she just looks perplexed. Though her expressions slip on and off so fast it could very well be my eyes playing tricks on me.

“Have you and Edward spoken yet?” she asks as we pack up our things. When she says it like that, it sounds inevitable.

“I almost impaled him and we electrocuted each other this morning. Does that count?”

She stares at me wide-eyed. “You _what?”_

“I’m kidding.” Sort of. “I accidentally flung my pencil at him and we shocked each other when he tried to give it back.” Sort of. “We apologized after class. That counts as speaking, right?”

She considers it then gives an acceptable shrug. “For now.”

We’re on the same teams as yesterday in Gym. Alice and Edward’s teams go against each other while mine goes against the fourth group. The two Cullens stay near each other for most of the class. Though I don’t see them talk, it still makes me worry.

Just because Edward gave me a pass didn’t mean he would sweep the incident completely under the rug. If he told Alice, would she keep it a secret, too? And if he told her, why not tell _all_ his siblings? Would they _all_ choose to overlook it?

I don’t have much time to think about it though because everyone keeps passing me the stupid ball. No matter how much I pass it or try to stay on the sidelines, it keeps finding its way back to me. Samantha manages to block the more aggressive players on the other team but I’d rather she just take the ball instead.

With her help, I manage to make it up to the net a few times and score twice. The second time is just me passing the ball to her and her kicking it in. Somehow, I still get most of the credit.

As soon as Coach Clapp blows the whistle, Lauren is at my hip. Not one for sports, she’d been avoiding the ball – and me – the entire class. It’s obvious that she still neither likes nor dislikes me but wants to be on friendly-ish terms before my brother joins us for lunch. She has the decency to at least _pretend_ she’s interested in a conversation that doesn’t revolve around Dale.

Jessica doesn’t.

The brunette arrives at the table red-faced and out of breath. As soon as she has air in her lungs, she starts asking about Dale: his favorite color, favorite band, the type of girls he really likes. Anything that could give her some sort of edge over the competition.

“Listen, that moron doesn’t have a type,” I say rolling my eyes. “If you don’t shoot him down right away, he likes you. He _still_ likes you even if you do.”

“He seems kind of shallow,” Mike blurts. Every girl at the table – including me – turns to glare at him. “No offense!”

“Dale isn’t shallow. A moronic flirt; but not shallow.”

My brother is one of those dramatic fools who would die for love — especially if it was in some grand, sweeping, heroic gesture. He loves and loves deeply. That doesn’t usually work out well when you skip town as often as we do, but he can’t help it. So he tries to compromise by extending his admiration to every girl he comes across, treating none any different than the rest.

I know his mind well enough to know he doesn’t just pull pretty lies out of his ass, either. He lays it on thick, but he rarely tells a woman something he doesn’t believe to be true. He’s an odd mixture of selfish-flirt and selfless-romantic. Like a child wearing his heart on his sleeve and relishing in the attention it gets him.

“He just can’t help himself. He’s one of those Spring babies who loves love.”

“ _Aww_ , Sunshine, are you defending me?”

Crap. “Merely giving an explanation for your bizarreness, Flirty McGee,” I say before taking a bite of my food.

Dale ruffles my hair fondly and I swipe at him. He finds safety sitting between Mike and Angela. This visibly miffs Jessica and Lauren, who only get to sit across from him, but he still manages to expertly split his attention between the three of them.

Tyler offers Jessica his seat beside Angela and she jumps for it. With the boys flanking me, the meal is a little easier to get through. The three of us shake our heads at Dale’s comments and roll our eyes at roughly the same time. I don’t join in when they gripe under their breath but I don’t stop them either. I even chuckle a few times.

Somehow, despite not having the time to actually _look_ at me, Dale manages to keep close tabs on my reactions to their words. It would be fine if he got upset or annoyed like a normal brother should when their sister laughs at their expense, but his mind instead is sappy and curious.

He wonders if I could ever think of one of these boys beyond the terms of simple friendship. If I could someday feel for one of them what he feels for pretty girls. Jessica steals the brunt of his attention for a moment and I fight back a scoff.

Tyler is sort of like Dale. He’s confident and a flirt but there’s also something condescending about the way he talks. Maybe it’s just because I don’t have a way of telling if what he says is genuine, but it seems like Tyler says whatever he thinks a girl wants to hear.

Mike, on the other hand, is a total sweetheart. He’ll be someone’s perfect puppy-eyed love one day. But not mine. I don’t need to put anyone through that. Not to mention I’m already dealing with a senseless not-crush on Edward.

It’s only gotten worse since this morning. Any other Norm would’ve flipped out and caused a scene right away. I’ve screwed up enough times and in enough ways to know that. Edward knew the shock wasn’t his fault but he took the blame anyway. How could I possibly not think more fondly of him after that?

Learning he doesn’t date also made it worse somehow. Now, instead of forcing my thoughts away from him, forcing myself to find the bad to keep myself in check… I actually have the option to let my mind wander. And there’s nothing to worry about because… well… nothing will come of it!

He doesn’t date. I don’t date. Nothing would simply continue being nothing.

It’s kind of… liberating, actually. I can have any silly thought I want about him and nothing’s ever going to happen. No one’s going to get hurt or killed or left behind. Just the subtle, beautiful comfort of life going on as normally as ever.

As long as it doesn’t become too distracting for my own wellbeing, I bet I could even let myself… I mean, crushes eventually run out on their own anyway, don’t they? Just this once, as long as I keep my head firmly on my shoulders, I bet I could let this… very, _very_ tiny infatuation just… run its course.

After all, normal people do that all the time, don’t they? They let their hearts flutter over someone they’ve barely spoken to, knowing not much will come of it, and still get along with their day to day struggles just fine.

I bet I could even gush about him with Jessica while she jabbers on about Dale. That’s what friends do with their crushes, isn’t it? Go back and forth about them? I have no idea. I’ve never allowed myself a crush before. It’s always been too dangerous to even entertain the thought. I’ve always struck down at-first-sight possibilities eons before they could even _become_ infatuations. One could almost consider it a talent of mine. But this time…

Quick as I can, I steal a glance at the Cullen table.

Edward doesn’t _look_ like someone who just exposed a life-altering secret. Alice certainly doesn’t look like she’s heard one. I imagine she’d be much more animated if she heard about my earlier slip. Either he plans to keep it a complete secret or learning your brother’s been struck by a living lightning storm is something the Cullen family can take in stride.

A fond, grateful smile comes to my lips. It seems my subconscious picked a very good person to crush on. Generous enough to keep a secret yet distant enough for me to keep reality firmly in check. Without even realizing it, Edward’s given me a precious, inconceivable gift. A chance to actually _be_ normal.

Dale, not paying enough attention to realize what I’m really thinking, feels the thrill and eager warmth of my thoughts. He gets excited and opens his stupid mouth.

“Hey, what was the name of that movie you wanted to see?”

My eyes sharpen. He’s too giddy not to be up to something.

“You remember, Sunshine. That one musical that just came out?” he says with practiced ease. “Why don’t you and your friends go see it this weekend?”

Ah. Right. This is another reason I should never let myself have a crush. Dale goes above and beyond trying to turn the dead-end, no-chance, one-sided admirations of mere acquaintances into teeming throughways of love. He’s gone absolutely nuts trying to set up Cypress a number of times. I don’t even want to imagine how crazy he’d go to set up _me_.

“I don’t want to see—”

“I want to see that one, too!” Jessica pipes up, staring straight at him. “We should go see it together!”

Dale smiles warmly at her as he shakes his head. “I’ve already made plans, sadly.”

“Me, too,” Lauren adds, though she looked just as eager as Jessica a moment ago.

He turns to Tyler and Mike. “Could either of you take Amethyst for me?”

Both agree before sending the other a small glare.

“Great! I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.”

I send him a glare. “I _said_ I don’t want to see a movie.”

“Sure you do, Sunshine,” he says waving me off. “You just don’t know it yet.”

My glare hardens while he and the others hash out the details. Angela is the only one kind enough to send me an apologetic look.

Dale _knows_ how much I hate it when he undermines me like that. His cheeky joy at my anger is obvious. It doesn’t help that he sends me a big, stupid, triumphant grin.

Two can play these games. And unfortunately for him, I can play better.

He scoffs lightly at that.

I huff and lean back in my chair and close my eyes. It’s the perfect picture of an annoyed high schooler taking a moment to block out the world and recharge. In reality, however, I lower the wall around my mind and seize the connection between Dale and me.

Caught off guard, Dale’s voice jumps – sounding like a pubescent crack – and his words carelessly crash into each other.

_Cheater!_ The accusatory thought comes as clear and easy as my own.

A small smile tugs at my lips. It begins slowly. Slow enough that Dale isn’t quite sure what I’m doing at first. Then the music gets louder. The realization comes to him and is quickly replaced with dread.

_You’ve_ got _to be kidding me._

Nope. Not at all.

If there is one thing my brother hates about me, it’s my taste in music. Or rather what he calls my “lack” of taste. While Dale is almost entirely devoted to the top 40s, with _just_ enough room for party classics and musical numbers, my preferred style of music is simply what sounds good to me. And that net encompasses just about every form of music on earth.

Rock and all of its subgenres, swing, classical, metal, rap, musicals, country, jazz, techno, alternative, dubstep, electro-swing, Celtic, movie scores, pop, folk; the smooth, lulling songs of the 40s, the emergence of early rock in the 50s, the transcendent and experimental 60s, the funky 70s, wild 80s — there’s always something I like. Heck, I even like a few polka songs.

My absolute favorite though is probably songs from different genres spliced together in what’s called a mashup. Dale _hates_ mashups. He groans loudly as I cross my legs and sway my foot to the beat of one.

“Sorry,” he says to someone. “A song I don’t like just got shoved into my head.”

He starts to focus on his food more than the girls around him. His desire to escape makes me chuckle. In the few minutes it takes him to scarf down his food I manage to jump 12 songs. Some of them are songs he actually likes with the chorus repeated over and over or a particularly ear-grating part of the song, like the strings at the end of _El Tango de Roxanne_.

He tries to throw me off. He plays the songs he knows back at me, continuing to the verse when I keep repeating the chorus. A few times he even tries playing songs he knows I don’t like but it’s not nearly as effective. He knows the lyrics and maybe a chord or two, but he can’t remember the full accompaniment of the tracks. Out of habit, I add in the beat and missing harmonies, the synth and baselines; everything in the background he fails to remember.

Then I loop the shit out of those songs, too. 

The conversation at the table is lost on me. The connection between Dale and I is all I focus on. Vaguely, I’m aware of my foot swaying, toes tapping, fingers drumming, and head bopping to the music in our head. It’s only through Dale’s thoughts that I’m even aware he’s finished eating and rising from the table. To mark the occasion, I switch to a song by Crazy Frog, an intentionally annoying artist Dale despises with a passion.

Someone asks him if he’s alright.

“It’s nothing. Just this _really_ annoying song in my head,” he all but shouts in my direction.

_The more distance between us, the weaker the connection_ , he reminds himself

A triumphant giggle escapes me. I open my eyes and grab my things to follow him. Dale huffs as a new Crazy Frog song starts up and hurries his pace. Jess and Lauren trail him, trying to keep up their conversation.

I switch to an older tune he likes when he feels like dancing. But at this moment the brass and beat of Benny Goodman’s _Sing, Sing, Sing_ does nothing but grind against his growing headache.

Merry with victory, I allow myself a small twirl as I follow behind them. A few curious looks are sent my way but they only make my smile grow. These Norms will never know what’s taking place right in front of them. They’ll never realize they were once audience to a song-battle between two mind-melded witches.

_Wizard_ , Dale interjects. _I prefer the term wizard and you know it._

Rolling my eyes, the trumpets blare a little louder. I smirk when Dale twitches. Then my mood sours.

The persistent creature hell-bent on learning my thoughts returns once more. Curious as always, the little pest presses against my mental defenses, nearly breaking my concentration on the song.

With part of my mind open to broaden mine and Dale’s connection, the fog-like entity manages to seep in between the cracks. But rather than hear my thoughts it gets swept along in the current, the back and forth between Dale’s consciousness and mine. A warm sensation ebbs and flows between us like radio dial wavering between two static stations. Never quite reaching either one.

Dale pauses a moment, curious. He passively flirts with a girl at a nearby table but his attention is entirely on me and the fog-creature.

_What is this thing?_ He asks.

I don’t know. It follows me around the school.

_Is it dangerous?_

I don’t think so. Just annoying. It always seems to come around at the worst times. My mind jumps back to Trig this morning, trying to fight it off while Edward and I worked at the board and each time it showed up yesterday.

_Sounds persistent. You should give it a name._

I cover my scoff with a cough. I don’t _want_ the fog-creature around. Why would I give it a name? _What_ would I name it?

_Space Invader?_ Dale suggests. _King Boo? Frogger?_

_“Pfft.”_ The first two I can understand, but _Frogger?_ It’s more like _fog_ , not a _frog._

_Fogger!_ Dale snorts with a sudden burst of laughter. “Sorry, sorry. An _excellent_ pun just came to mind.”

_We have to call it Fogger! For the pun!_

Rolling my eyes, I pull my defenses back up. I can still feel his exuberance with the pun but at least I don’t have to listen to his obnoxious thoughts directly.

Fogger – what a ridiculous name – collects itself. Realizing it’s no longer stuck between two conflicting channels, it comes after me with greater fervor than before. It’s annoying. Dale is amused by my misery which is even more annoying.

I quickly lower my defenses and blast another random trumpet sound. Dale literally jumps in surprise. He makes up an excuse. Something about suddenly remembering the need to go to his locker.

Interestingly enough, Fogger also jumped at the sound. The skittish fog-creature moves blindly. Possibly trying to figure out where it came from. It gets caught between me and Dale again.

A wonderfully terrible idea dawns on me. I giggle wickedly and give Dale a heads up before cutting our connection.

He sends a frantic look over his shoulder, not liking my plan at all, then walks away as fast as he can. The girls around him have to jog to keep up with his long legs. He isn’t my target this time but he’s definitely going to get caught in the crossfire if he doesn’t hurry.

To be kind, I turn on my heel and walk the other way to increase the space between us. Reaching the other end of the cafeteria, I lean against the wall and wait. Once Dale’s out the door, he moves to one of the nearby windows and glances back at me while his posse of girls huddles around him.

Taking a deep breath, I focus on Fogger’s persistent presence. It feels slightly thinner than before but that doesn’t stop me. In one foul swoop, I rip away the wall between us and allow it entrance. Confused and caught by surprise, it all but tumbles into my conscious space.

An intense warmth seeps into my mind. I recognize the hot feeling from this morning and frown. My defenses must’ve slipped while I was panicking in Trig. Whatever. It doesn’t matter now.

I give Fogger a moment to catch its bearings and get comfortable in my mind. It suddenly stops moving, zeroing in on something. Perhaps it heard the name I’ve given it. Maybe it realizes I’m aware of it and up to something. Regardless, I gladly take the opening.

All hell breaks loose inside my head. It’s a mesh of Crazy Frog, Sia, the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Linkin Park, Within Temptation, Kesha, Delta Rae, Louis Armstrong, Twisted Sister, Journey, Rhianna, Bon Jovi, The Living Trombone, KISS, Beyoncé, Tenacious D, Halestorm, Twenty One Pilots, The Dresden Dolls, ACDC — anything loud or jarring or ear-grating I can get my hands on. _El Tango de Roxanne_ , _Crown on the Ground_ , _Hocus Pocus_ by Focus, the wild ending of Tchaikovsky’s _1812 Overture_ (complete with cannons, of course), several Queen songs—

I rack my brain and pull out some avant-garde jazz, heavy metal, electro-swing… several over-the-top musical numbers, Celtic songs littered with bagpipes, opera singers climbing the scales to an ungodly note… Sweeping classical movements, base blasting hip-hop, techno-dubstep remixes of songs that should _never_ have been given techno-dubstep remixes…

By the time I run out of music, even _my_ head hurts. I rub my temples but the warmth remains. Fogger’s still in my head. I groan and lightly bang my head against the wall behind me.

I wish it went both ways. It’d be nice to know if I at least managed to _frazzle_ the stupid, stinkin’ fog-creature. With a huff, my walls go up. The heat fades. Surprisingly, Fogger doesn’t stick around to press against my defenses. It disappears completely this time.

It’s such a shock I actually glance around the room for the creature. Shaking my head, a self-deprecating smile finds its way to my lips. For the past two days I’ve been trying to get Fogger to leave me alone. Now here I am _looking_ for the pest.

Without thinking, my eyes fall to the Cullen table. Like yesterday, their heads are close together as they partake in some secret discussion. My heart rate doubles. What if Edward’s telling them about the shock?

In an almost Déjà vu fashion, Alice notices me staring. Instead of glaring or staring at me in horror like I expect, she sends me a proud, mischievous smirk. I blink mindlessly until she looks away again. Her reaction, though surprising to me, is echoed across the Cullen table.

Most of them look smug or on the verge of cracking up. The major exception is Edward, who wears the heated expression of one being ganged up on by their siblings. My worry subsides and I chuckle at the display. It’s not often I see it from an outsider’s perspective.

He turns his glare away from them in a huff. His eyes land on me and he frowns. He rubs the side of his forehead and mutters something that makes Emmett roar with laughter. My cheeks go pink. There’s no way they’re talking about me _again,_ right?

Actually, that’s a very reasonable possibility. They could be laughing at him because he tried to tell them what happened and they didn’t believe him. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to believe that.

Edward continues to regard me as he rubs his temple. His features mix with curiosity and he tilts his head very slightly to the side. Despite my uneasiness, the action makes me smile. He did the same thing yesterday, too.

I push against the warm feeling rising in my chest until my earlier revelation resurfaces. It’s _okay_ to like him. Nothing’s going to happen. Besides, this crush is due to run itself into the ground any day now. Soon I’ll see what an average, flawed human being he is and come to my senses. Until then it’s perfectly okay to indulge myself a teensy little bit.

Edward’s curiosity melds with confusion as I send him a bright, appreciative smile. Even if he doesn’t know it, he’s given me the chance to be normal twice now. Both by overlooking my unexplainable power and by simply being himself. I don’t think there’s any way for me to properly thank him.

Whether there is or isn’t, the liberated warmth of my decision flutters in my stomach. It’s such a strange feeling. All at once giddy and spirited yet aching and strained. There’s a buzzing inside of me and for once it’s not of my own creation. Edward Cullen has set a small fire in my chest. And I will let it burn.

A giddy shriek snatches the room’s attention. By the door, Dale jumps up and down like a small child. He folds over himself in glee, a face-splitting grin firmly in place as he giggles and squeals.

His emotions are an explosion of excitement, disbelief, and pure joy. Love and elation replace any lingering annoyance or contempt for my earlier actions. But for the life of me I can’t figure out why.

I make a face at him. We usually have an understanding of why the other feels the way they do but he’s so elated right now the feeling itself is all I know.

In the briefest of actions, he glances over to the Cullen table.

I raise a brow.

His smile somehow grows even larger.

The realization kicks in. The words squeeze out softly: _“Oh no.”_

Dale, despite not possibly being able to hear me from the other end of the long room, nods eagerly. He knows I have a crush on Edward.

Oh god. My idiot, love-obsessed brother knows I have a crush on someone.

In absolute horror, I watch him excuse himself from the gaggle of girls who followed him back in. He saunters shamelessly over to the Cullens’ table and cheerfully greets Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper. All five of them seem surprised at how easily he walked up to them and started speaking. So does everyone else in the cafeteria.

Uncharacteristically, he introduces himself to Alice before Edward. He usually introduces himself to girls last in order to seamlessly continue conversing with them.

Shrieking and cursing internally, I realize he’s switched his usual strategy to do just that with Edward.

My eyes fly to the room’s only clock. There’s still a few minutes left for lunch. Desperate, I imagine the gears behind it speeding up. The minute hand starts to scoot across the clock face with greater speed. Once it’s far enough, I focus on the nearby bell. Not sure how it works, I just jolt it with a surge of electricity and hope for the best.

It rings louder and clearer than it probably has in years. Some kids even jump at the sound.

“Did they replace that bell?” one asks.

A few people check their watches and phones in confusion. Others merely stand and go to class, unaware of the time robbed from them.

I’m at my brother’s side as fast as humanly possible.

“C’mon, Dale.” I pull his arm with a false grin. “You still need to go to your locker, right?”

“Sunshine! Just the girl I wanted to see!” he says maneuvering me beside him. He nearly knocks me into Edward’s chair and continues to grin as I fight down a glare. “Have you met the Cullens?”

“Most of them,” I mumble, stopping my glare long enough to give Alice a wave and Rosalie an awkward half-smile. My eyes pause on Edward not sure how to acknowledge him. He stares up at me, waiting, but all I do is tuck my hair behind my ears and stare at his brow. I don’t dare risk looking directly into his eyes with Dale so close by.

I open my mouth to say _something_ to him but Dale beats me to it.

“Edward, this is my sister Amethyst. Am,” he starts patting my back encouragingly, “this is my new friend Edward.”

The excitement he feels seeps into me with each pat. It makes my heart speed up and my cheeks flush.

I turn and bat his hands away. “I know who he is! We’ve got two classes together.”

“Okay, okay!” He backs away, arms up in surrender, but continues to grin. “I wasn’t sure. How about Emmett, the strong man?”

He gestures to Grizzly and I send the big guy a wave. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

He returns it with an amused, curious smile and a nod. “Same.”

“And you clearly know these _gorgeous_ ladies.”

No one at the table seems to mind the comment, Rosalie even basks in it, but I still roll my eyes and shake my head.

“How about the good sir Jasper?” Dale asks in crisp theatrical tone.

I glare lightly at him. He grins expectantly, knowing I can’t resist the chance to put on an accent.

Despite myself, I respond in the same fashion. “I’m afraid not.” I offer the blond my hand. “How do you do, good sir Jasper?”

He stares at it before flicking his eyes in Edward’s direction. Alice nudges him and gives him a reassuring smile and nod. He barely grasps my fingers before placing both his hands – cold and firm as every other Cullen’s – under the table. The food on his tray is hardly touched. Same with Alice’s. Same with all of their trays, actually.

“I’m quite well, miss,” he says in a similar tone, “and you?”

I smile, appreciating his playing along with us. “The same, sir. It was lovely acquainting and,” I roll my wrist to encompass all the Cullens, “re-acquainting with you all, but fleet the time.” Grabbing Dale’s arm again, I say, “We really must be going now.”

“That bell’s broken,” Dale argues. “Besides, I’m having fun chatting with the Cullens.”

He smiles wryly. This is part of his payback for the headache earlier. The possibility of embarrassing me _and_ starting up something romantic between me and Edward? The idea makes him giddy all over again.

I send him an incredulous look. Embarrassing me? _This_ is what he calls embarrassing me? _Ha!_

Turning to the Cullen closest to me – Edward, of course – a large, friendly grin sprouts on my face. I lean carefully against the armrest of his chair and wrap an arm around his shoulders as if we’re good ol’ buddies. He turns to stone at my actions, only moving enough to keep his wide eyes locked on mine. My grin becomes genuine, nearly laughing at his awed expression.

  _“So_ ,” I begin, “Dale had this _huge_ crush on one of his third-grade teachers, Ms. Wriggles, right? Well, one day, we see her out at the supermarket with this other woman and Dale, being Dale, decides to—”

“That’s enough chattering for one day!” Dale shrieks yanking me from the seat and dragging me from the table. “Didn’t you hear the bell, young lady? Are you trying to skip class to talk to boys? I’m appalled! If our mother could see you now!”

Glancing back at the Cullens, Edward’s still a little awestruck. The others are too but a few of them also seem entertained. I point to Dale’s head and bring my thumb and pointer finger close together. To Rosalie, I mouth the words, “Pea brain.”

Her mouth twitches.

“You know I hate that story,” he complains once we’re outside

“You keep your nose out of my business and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“I couldn’t help myself. I was just so happy.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m only allowing myself a little infatuation—”

He snorts. _“A little infatuation?”_

“—because I know nothing’s going to happen.”

“Not if I can help it!”

“Dale. Listen to me. _Nothing_ is going to happen. Nothing _can_ happen. Have you forgotten what I am?”

“ _Noooo_ …”

“Have you forgotten what’s bound to happen to me any day?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“Bullshit. Have you forgotten I’m a dead girl walking?”

“I don’t see what your love for the Heathers musical has to do with anything, Sunshine.”

_“Dale!”_

 “Okay, okay!” He finally drops the playful act. “ _Sheesh!_ Yes, I know you could die. Sorry for wanting you to have a happily ever after before that happens!”

I scowl. “Essences don’t get happy endings, Dale!” Lightning and thunder thrash across the sky as I march away from him. “Get that through your thick skull!”


	4. Sunshine Thunderstruck

There's a name for what I am. It's long and in Latin but it basically translates to Child Born of Magical Essence. Unlike most witches who need to go through elaborate rituals, rely on special tools, or pay steep prices to powerful entities to get what they want, Essences only need themselves.

Rather than manipulate what exists, like Dale or Chris, or be manipulated  _by_ what exists, like Cy, I can fabricate and forge my own creations. I don’t call lightning down from the sky. I create it. I don’t ask the wind to move the clouds. I blow them away with my own breath and intensify the heat in the air to burn them away.

An Essence’s stamina is severely limited compared to other witches but raw power like ours is hard to find. It makes us coveted. Every Head Witch and High Priestess and what-have-you wants an Essence in their coven. Every practitioner of blood magic wants an Essence vein at their disposal. Spirit workers will do anything for the bones of an Essence. Potion makers would pay a fortune to have something of ours to put in their brews.

Once, when I was very young, a witch offered my mother several thousand dollars for my nail clippings. Another time, I spit into a tissue and threw it in a trashcan filled with broken glass only to watch a warlock fish it out and pocket it with a bloody hand. That people would do these things for such a small piece of me is amazing. It also makes it clear why we are called _children_.

Essences are exceedingly rare. The only thing any of us has in common is our power and the silver ring splintering around our irises. When they recognize that ring, people go mad for a piece of us. Some are kind and ask or offer something as a trade. Some simply take what we leave behind. Others do not ask or offer any trade and wouldn’t take no for an answer even if they did.

The few records there are of Essences say we don’t usually reach adolescence unscathed. Teeth, fingers, and limbs get removed. Silver-ringed eyes get carved out from their sockets. Large gashes form from where blood has been taken so many times not even  _our_ magic can heal the skin anymore. Often, we don't make it to adulthood at all. And if it's not a selfish, malevolent mage that kills us, it's ourselves.

Our blood and bone is magic incarnate, but in the end, we’re still human. If we aren’t careful, if we demand too much or lose control, our power can tear our bodies apart from the inside.

The safest way to avoid that, my mother hypothesizes, is to follow the same rules as other witches. Be aware of your intentions, know what you put out always comes back, and ask rather than create.

Even when I do ask, the universe can feel my power, my pull. Sometimes it rewards my responsible behavior generously. Sometimes it lashes out and does the exact opposite of what I want. Rather than risk a disappointed Chris by asking for a sunny day – which wouldn’t happen no matter  _who_ begged in this continuous downpour – I ask instead for plentiful energy in the day to come.

I’m up at five. Fully dressed and getting drenched as I stare at the clouds by six. The rain is gone by the time we pack into the Bronco but the clouds still loom. I continue to stare up at them as Dale brings Chris to the front office. By the first bell, there are only a few grey tufts remaining.

Chris has math in the same building as me for her first period. She smiles broadly up at the bright blue sky as I walk her to her classroom. She gives me a big, grateful hug before leaving me.

Once I get to my class, I let out a huge yawn. Already I’m starting to feel the drain. Forks is a naturally dreary place. It’s _meant_ to be cloudy and wet. More than that, it’s _meant_ to be pouring buckets right now. This sunny day is as unnatural as they come, making the task extremely difficult.

Adding to that difficulty is the fact that today is the day my notes and Mr. Varner’s lessons converge. The whole class I’m trying to split my focus between what he says and the weather outside. My hand automatically copies the things he puts up on the board but very little of it sinks into my brain.

It’s not until the bell rings and I’m packing up that I even realize Edward’s seat is empty. I frown. A perfectly sunny day and he isn’t here to enjoy it. I can’t focus on his absence too much or the clouds might return, but if there’s a day without rain next week I _might_ consider making it sunny for him. Simple clouds would be a thousand times easier to manage than keeping this downpour at bay.

All day the bulk of my attention stays in the skies.

Alice isn’t in Biology. As preoccupied as I am, and without her by my side, the material completely flies over my head. I struggle to understand anything Mr. Banner says at all. By the end of the lesson, however, I’m pretty sure he’s speaking Russian.

In Gym, Coach Clapp lets us play out on the field. With the sun beating down on it all day, the grass is hardly even damp. I bask in the fruits of my labor as much as I can.

At last my gym mates finally grasp the fact that I am merely an average soccer player at best. They only pass the ball to me a few times. My fatigued limbs trip over it and send me into the grass mouth-first. _Twice_.

“Wow,” Lauren exclaims as I yawn yet again. “You must really be tired.”

I nod, not wasting the energy to speak as I follow her to one of the few picnic tables outside. No one eats lunch inside today. Everyone collectively enjoys my gift by sitting at a picnic table, atop a car, or even out on the field.

When Chris shyly takes a seat beside me, I fake my energy as best as I can and introduce her to the group. She politely responds whenever someone talks to her but doesn’t seek out conversation. Mostly she just soaks up the sun. To the girls’ delight, Dale sits with us as well.

“It’s too bad the Cullens aren’t here today,” he eventually says. “Would’ve liked to see Chris and the Strongman arm-wrestle.”

I roll my eyes at the idea. Chris is pretty strong for her size but there’s no way she could take on Grizzly. Jessica, our gossip queen, graciously tells Chris everything about the Cullens. For some reason, probably because Dale’s around, she doesn’t make as big a deal out of the fact that they are all “ _together_ together”, as she puts it.

“Wait.” I glance around. “Are _none_ of the Cullens here today?”

“Of course not,” she says as if it were obvious. “Sunny days are so rare here, their dad pulls them all out of school and they go on, like, hikes and camping trips and stuff.”

 _“WHAT!?”_ Dale shrieks. “You can _do_ that?! _We_ should do that!”

Chris and I shake our heads at him.

“We already miss enough school,” I argue. “And I hate camping.”

“You don’t _hate_ camping,” he counters.

“I hate spiders, mosquitos, and ticks. They come after me in droves out in the wilderness. The wilderness is where camping happens. Ergo, I hate camping.”

“Yeah, but with you around, no one else has to worry about getting bitten by those bloodsuckers.” He grins, thinking of me as a giant bug zapper.

I glare, thinking of different ways to zap _him_. He quickly turns back to Jessica and Lauren, pulling them into a new conversation.

Chris nudges me in the side. “The clouds are coming back,” she mumbles softly.

My attention returns to the sky and it clears. Once Chris leaves for her next class, Gym, I let out a seemingly endless yawn. Everything else goes by in a blur. When we finally get back to the motel, my head hits a pillow and doesn’t come up again for a full 12 hours.

Outside, the rain has returned in full force. Trying to make up for lost time, water pours from the sky in buckets and floods across the pavement like rivers. This is an issue for two reasons.

One, none of us own a pair of rain boots. You’d think at least one of us would’ve been responsible enough to consider the possibility of needing rain boots while living in the rainiest town in America, but no. Apparently “Dagwood” is interchangeable with the word “Dumbass”.

Two, I am so exhausted from yesterday I can barely walk properly. Let alone do anything about the rain or my cold, wet feet. Today I have to suffer through it as if I were really a Norm. A normal, non-magical human being — a muggle, if you will. I don’t know how they put up with this crap.

Resting my head as other students shuffle in, I wallow in my powerlessness and sink a little closer to unconsciousness. Far away from me, the final morning bell rings. Wet shoes squeak along the linoleum floors, moseying to their seats. It somehow lulls me further.

A deep, dreamless sleep is narrowly within grasp when my heart rate abruptly spikes. I shoot up in my seat without warning. Mike and Angela jump.

“Geez, Am, you scared me! I thought you were sleeping!”

“Are you okay?” Angela asks.

I continue to glance around the classroom, managing a distracted, “Uh huh.”

Adrenaline pours through my veins at an alarming rate. For the life of me, I can’t tell what’s wrong. Everything looks the same as any other day.

Chloe Smith and Samantha Wells are getting ready to pass notes. Emilia Scott is jotting down formulas as fast as Mr. Varner writes them on the board. Edward Cullen is sitting to my right, same empty seat between us. The only thing wrong with this picture is Edward, who looks like he’s fighting the urge to snap his desk in half.

His jaw is locked painfully tight as his ridged body curls in on itself. His fists clench the bottom of his chair with such a force it starts to groan under the pressure. If I didn’t know better, I might think I was looking at a carved marble statue. A master sculptor’s finest piece showcased across the globe with some pretentious title like _Fighting the Monster Within_.

Humor aside, there is something very, _very_ wrong here. This sense of danger and dread I feel, the instinct to run or fight… does Edward feel it too? None of the other Norms are reacting but him.

“Edward?” I whisper.

He tilts his ear a fraction in my direction. He doesn’t look at me. Only at the space directly in front of him.

“Are you…” He clearly isn’t okay, there’s no point in asking. That’s not what I want to know anyway. No, the real question is: “Did you feel that, too?”

His gaze snaps to mine. A stifled gasp escapes me and my body instinctively moves back.

He stares at me with unyielding intensity. Something sharp and unbridled darkens his usually angelic features. Deep in his eyes, there is panic and suspicion. Far too close to the surface is a hunger. For what, I can’t even fathom.

Edward opens his mouth to say something then doubles over. One hand flies to his mouth and nose. The other strangles his chair, which cries out under the strain.

Meanwhile, my body buzzes with newfound energy. The urge to run, get away, blast everything in my path grows impossible to ignore. That’s enough of an answer for me. Edward may or may not be a Norm, but he’s definitely Sensitive. And whatever we’re feeling, the cause of it must be in this room.

I reach down for my bag and yank it open, pulling out my mother’s potion. Each component within it was specially chosen for its protective qualities. Of course the day I decide _not_ to put any on is the day something like this happens.

Uncapping the mixture, I slather it across each of my wrists and along my neck several times. In small doses, the scent is soft and warm with a slight bite to it; the tiniest winter breeze on a warm, waning autumn day. Putting this much on is like plowing a go-kart into a glacier during a blizzard as the gas tank explodes.

“ _Whoa_ ,” Mike says covering his nose, “that a lot of perfume, don’t you think—”

“Mr. Varner,” I jump from my seat, halting the lesson and Mike’s comment, “I think Edward’s about to be sick. May I please bring him to the nurse’s office?”

My words surprise everyone. By the time Mr. Varner can manage a coherent sentence, I’ve already reached Edward’s side. I try pulling him from his seat by the arm but he doesn’t budge. Like… at all. Not even the tiniest bit. He’s so rooted to the spot, I imagine a redwood would be easier to move.

“You may, Miss Dagwood.”

Finally, as if a spell were lifted, Edward rises from his seat and rushes out of the classroom. If I weren’t holding his arm, he would’ve left me in the dust. As it is, my tired legs can barely keep up.

A small shriek escapes me as I trip over a raised piece of asphalt. Edward comes to a sudden halt at the sound but I fly forward with momentum. He grabs my wrist but all that does is swing me around just enough to crash right into him.

My insides jostle at the impact. It’s like slamming straight into a solid slab of concrete. All the air is knocked out of me. I topple over, coughing up a storm. My chest aches as I struggle to catch my breath. Edward offers an apology but I wave it off. I don’t care that I got hurt as much as I care to know _how_ I got hurt. Running into people never hurts _this_ much.

I go to ask if he’s made of bricks when something dark blue in his hand catches my eye. I frown curiously at it. It looks familiar but what it actually is escapes me.

“What’s that?” I ask reaching for it.

The second my fingers grasp onto its glossy edge Edward jerks it behind his back. I don’t let go and end up knocking my chest into his again. It hurts, but the sudden closeness and subsequent pounding of my heart dulls the pain. He gives me a warm, charming smile, making my heart go into overdrive. The blood rushes to my cheeks at a startling rate.

His eyes latch onto them. His smile slowly falls. A look of yearning spreads across his features. The longer he stares the more obvious it becomes and the worse my blush gets. All at once I realize his face is getting closer to mine.

 _“Can I help you!?”_ I shout, startling both of us.

His eyes jump up to mine as his head reels back. He swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and blinks several times. He shuts his black-gold eyes to me and shakes his head, like he needs help remembering where he is and what he’s doing.

When he opens them again, there’s no hint of his previous actions. He sends me another captivating grin like nothing happened.

“I would appreciate it,” he croons, “if you would please let go.”

My insides flip at the smooth, honey quality of his voice. My cheeks burn under his handsome smile. I nearly do as he asks but something stops me. Something about his voice and expression seems startlingly familiar — and  _annoying_. To the point where I almost want to smack it off his face. Whenever Dale makes this face at a girl—

Of course! Whenever Dale makes this face at a girl he’s trying to get away with something! I’ve seen him dazzle girls and women like this countless times to avoid trouble, sooth suspicions, and just plain get away with whatever he wants.

Irritation overtakes my silly infatuation. My resolve hardens, as well as my grip on the thick, smooth object behind Edward’s back. I refuse to be as easily thrown off as the morons who fall for Dale’s glamour.

Edward knows right away when I figure out his trick. His lovely, alluring façade disappears. A frightening black expression takes its place. The urge to run away grows in the pit of my stomach but my stubborn refusal keeps me firmly rooted in place.

I don’t see what the big deal is. It didn’t look or feel like anything someone could get in trouble for bringing to school, like a knife or something. If he would just let me see it, my curiosity would be satisfied and I’d leave him alone. I consider telling him as much but doubt it would do any good.

My hand curls around the object as much as it can, trying to figure out what it is without letting go. A sharp, metal-like piece presses threateningly against my palm.

I nervously glance at where my hand must be behind him. My blood needs to stay inside my body at all times. Nothing good ever happens when it's exposed.

Edward, perhaps thinking I’m trying to look behind him, takes a large step back. My grip remains firm and I follow him. I stuck air between my teeth as the jagged piece presses harder against my skin.

“You should really let go before I get a bloody hand.” I don’t mean to threaten him but that’s how it comes out.

Bad things happen when my blood touches the air. The world gets a little… wonky. Hellish, even. I’m sure everyone at Forks High would appreciate it if the laws of nature didn’t suddenly stop applying.

Edward’s face doesn’t change but he releases his grip immediately and takes several steps away from me. The thing is bigger and slightly heavier than I expect. My arm falls quickly and the flat, hard object smacks right into my thigh.

I groan and flinch at the hit but don’t look down. His eyes, the emotion behind them, are too interesting to turn away from.

A piece of him wants to lash out and take the blue thing back, rip it out of my hands and chuck it into orbit. Another part of him is aloof; accepting and resigned to this fate. A curious response.

“Thank you,” I whisper genuinely.

He just stares at me. He stays eerily still as I inspect the object. The thick, shiny piece of glossed blue reflects my amazement. On the other side of it is a curved metal bar with barbed edges where it was snapped. Careful to hold it from the smooth corner, I tap my nail to the blue surface in disbelief.

It really is a piece of his chair. Edward Cullen somehow managed to break an inch-thick piece of stone-hard plastic. Not only that, but the dense, two-inch thick metal bar meant to connect it to the rest of his desk looks like a snapped silver twig.

“Well… how ‘bout that?” I mutter.

He is  _definitely_ not a Norm.

I flip the chair piece around in my hand a few more times, not quite believing my eyes. Curiously glancing up at him, he seems frozen in time. A thousand-year-old statue staring me down. His face is smooth, deceptively unperturbed, but his jaw is locked. Though he tries to keep them relaxed, his eyes are wild with anticipation and dread.

There are so many questions running through my mind. I want to know what happened. What made him freak out in class and how could he possibly manage to break something so strong. I want to know why he looks the way he does. How his whole family, despite being so clearly unrelated, look so much the same. I want to know everything.

In his eyes, I see the worry, the calculating of plans. Is he bound like my family is bound to make sure no one else learns his secret? Is he plotting ways to keep me quite? Ways to get his family away as quick as possible?

My curiosity and sympathy rage against each other. The parallels between us are surprising. Is this how he felt deciding my fate the day I shocked him?

The chair piece suddenly feels even heavier. Surely I had the same look in my eyes when the roles were reversed. Guilt pools at the bottom of my stomach nearly making me sick.

He allowed me to be normal. He gave me a second chance, to continue my charade of normalcy without asking anything in return. What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t give him the same?

With great resolve, I puff out my chest and stand tall. Edward’s gaze hardens and he straightens his stance. He looks ready for anything. I nod and give him a friendly smile to reassure him. His black expression hardens further; he doesn’t trust me for a second.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. He doesn’t get it.

He takes a step back, starting to walk the other way. I shake my head, not wanting him to leave. If he runs away now… who’s to say he won’t keep running? He might just leave this town for good, just like we always do. I can’t… I _won’t_ be responsible for doing that to someone else’s family. It’s bad enough I always do it to mine.

“You were wrestling, right?” I blurt out. “With your brothers?”

Edward stops. He tilts his head in his usual tiny way, confusion side-by-side with skepticism.

“You were shocking them and some was left over so you shocked me.” I stare at my fingertips as I repeat the lie. They’re long since healed. Not a speck of burnt or broken skin remains. “That’s the story, isn’t it?”

I fish in my bag and pull out the only remaining evidence of what happened. The ruined pencil. The cracks are so deep they fracture the thin strip of wood, splitting pieces of it apart. They jut out from its charred center — where our fingers met. Where the storm ignited.

He stares at it. His brows furrow as he grapples with what I’m trying to say. I implore him to understand that this is an olive branch. One that has to be carefully worded for both our sakes.

Not knowing how else to make it clear, I sweep my eyes over the area and start for the nearest trashcan.

“What…”

I pause in my step and turn back to him, silently urging him to be careful with his words.

“What are you doing?”

I bring the pencil forward and make a face, prompting him to pay close attention. I gesture it in his direction then toss it into the trashcan. Making sure he’s watching closely, I lift the chair piece, tap my chest, and toss it in as well. It hits the bottom with a satisfying _CLANG!_

I wipe my hands in an exaggerated fashion and hold them up. Empty. Clean slate. Like it never happened.

Edward doesn’t move. Doesn’t seem to breathe. His eyes go from me to the trashcan to my hands.

“Why?” he asks after a moment, his voice softer than an angel’s sigh.

I give him a knowing smile and shake my head sympathetically before lowering it. There’s nothing I can say to explain myself. Nothing that wouldn’t contradict what I’ve already done.

When I look back up again my smile is innocent and unassuming.

“Did you say something, Edward? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

He takes a large breath, as if he forgot he needed to breathe in the first place. His mouth opens but he quickly shuts it. He stays still like that for a nearly a minute. I tilt my head in concern, hoping he didn’t short circuit, then he jerks back into motion.

He quickly runs a hand through his wild reddish-brown hair, in a way that just _hints_ at a lack of grace. His confusion and relief are palpable. My smile grows genuine. I wait another moment for my actions to sink in before speaking.

“We really ought to be getting you to the nurse,” I say continuing my role. I offer him my hand. “Let’s get going, okay?”

He stares at my hand, then at me. He stares at me a long while. Wide eyes and awed lips, he regards me as something new and unknown. The air around us changes. Slowly it churns, thick and electric, imitating the beginnings of a storm. Only… storms don’t usually feel this tender.

The intensity of his gaze ignites my blood. My heart beats with exuberance. I hide my other hand behind my back as static surges between my fingers.

I bask in the wonderful, fervent feeling, fighting back the urge to quash it down. There’s no _way_ I’m denying myself the full extent of this warmth.

The proper name for Edward’s expression comes to me as I savor this electric feeling. It’s so fitting I burst out laughing. The sound draws him from his stupor. His eyes brighten with a fresh awareness.

“What is it?”

“Y-You—” I struggle, clutching my gut breathlessly. “You look— _thunderstruck!”_ I blurt and tumble back into laughter. It’s so loud and carefree a teacher comes out of her classroom to glare at us (me) and shut her door.

Edward chuckles, a lopsided smile dawning his handsome features as he glances to the floor. The sight warms me further.

“I suppose I am,” he says to himself. Slowly, his boyish grin turns to a frown. The warm feeling in my chest eases then cools as he gazes past me.

Alice stands at the other end of the building with a stupefied expression. Her eyes turn from me to Edward. The two share an intense stare as she walks toward us until her eyes glaze over. The look disappears once she’s only a few feet away.

She smiles tightly at me. “Good morning, Amethyst.”

“Morning, Alice. Is everything okay?”

She bites her lip and gives me a quick once-over. Her eyes get the same faraway look and Edward stiffens. After a moment, she nods carefully.

“I _think_ so.”

Despite her words, the atmosphere remains dreadfully delicate and Edward does not relax. We’re all walking a very thin line. Alice has already somehow picked up on the situation. One wrong word and everything shatters.

“Your brother’s not feeling so well,” I say quickly. “I was taking him to the nurse’s office but… then I remembered I don’t know where it is. Would you mind taking him instead?”

Her eyes brighten in surprise. She glances, almost disbelievingly, to her brother then gives me a grateful smile. I continue to play my part by telling Edward to feel better soon then make my way back to class. As curious as I am to see if they’ll start talking right away, I force myself to not look back. Privacy is the least I can do.

When I reenter the classroom, my eyes fall to his empty desk. The chunk missing is glaringly obvious when you walk up the aisles, what with the fractured seat and jutting pieces of metal.

If no one in this class notices it, someone in the next surely will. The urgent need to hide any trace of abnormality tugs at my insides. It isn’t my screw up that needs covering for once, but it still somehow feels like my responsibility. In a way, I guess it is.

No matter how roundabout the exchange, Edward and I enacted a trade. A secret for a secret. If I do nothing to keep his secret from being exposed, that makes me as much to blame as if I’d told people myself. It would make our silent deal moot. He’d have every right to expose me as well. As Head Witch, I can’t risk putting my family in harm’s way like that.

At least… that’s how I’m justifying it.

 _It_ being me staring at the fire alarm by the door. _It_ being me glaring at the switch when it doesn’t immediately respond to my demands. _It_ being me accidentally sending too powerful a jolt in my exhausted, irritated state and blowing up the device, starting an  _actual_ fire.

It’s only a quick burst of flame. It sparks and dies out immediately, but the sudden blinding plume of fire and shrill of the bell scares the living crap out of everyone in the room. Most people rush to climb out the windows. Some fools run for the door — if it had been a _real_ fire, the doorway would’ve been engulfed. I pretend to follow the group then duck behind Mr. Varner’s desk.

Once the room is silent – beyond the obnoxious, deafening ring of the alarm – I creep over to the window. None of the other classes have any need to crawl out their windows, so the coast is clear. Most of them probably think it’s a drill.

Rushing to Edward’s seat, I pull it into the aisle and swap it with the last desk in his row. I drag the broken one over to the window. After a few clumsy attempts, I manage to maneuver it through without breaking the glass. Once I’m out as well, I rush to the end of the building and peek in the direction of the field.

As I thought, the school is gathering there and getting drenched. Quick as I can, I hurry back to the desk and pick it up. It isn’t terribly heavy but it certainly isn’t light either. The biggest issue is trying to pick up something so awkward in a way that neither hurts nor makes moving fast impossible.

Despite the adrenaline pushing me forward, my body is still worn out from yesterday. It takes an annoyingly large amount of time to carry the heavy thing towards the parking lot.

My heart races each time I pass through the vulnerable open space between buildings. The rain I complained about earlier is now my savior. In a deluge like this, no one would pay much attention to a struggling figure they can barely see in the distance.

Once I get to the edge of the parking lot I pause. It’s nothing but open space now, save the cars. If anyone else is ditching the assembly, if there are teachers out looking for straggling students, or if there are staff members who just ignored the alarm and stayed in the Front Office, they’ll see me lugging the desk to the dumpster.

There’s no justifiable excuse for carrying a broken desk around in the middle of a fire drill. If another kid finds me, it’ll start rumors and everyone will keep an annoyingly critical eye on me; if a teacher finds me, I’ll have to deal with all that _and_ detention. Not a good outcome either way. Especially not for someone with as much to hide as me.

Regardless, my sense of responsibility does not waver.

I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. Edward Cullen is  _not_ my responsibility. It’s not my job to keep his secret a secret. This is not something new to him. The look in his eyes told me so. As did Alice’s intense, nervous stare.

He and his family already know how important it is to keep things like this hidden from Norms. They surely know how to cover up their tracks on their own by now. They must be ready to run at the smallest disturbance too.

My chest tightens at the thought of Edward disappearing. Like we always do. One day here, the next day gone. No explanation. No goodbye. Just… _gone_.

I sometimes wonder what it’s like to be the people we leave behind, our old friends and acquaintances. Do they remember us at all? Do any of them miss us? Are our faces hazy and nameless or can they conjure our likeness in their minds with startling accuracy? Do they ever wonder why we left? Have we unknowingly etched ourselves into local legend or do we just fade with time?

The boys try to stay in contact with as many people as they can but it gets to be too hard. We lose phone numbers and addresses between the moves. We can’t afford to keep our own phones for long either — not financially nor for our own safety.

No one can ever keep track of us. That’s the point. Keeping in touch is a hassle when you’re constantly disappearing. Chris and I don’t even bother anymore.

Leaving is something we’ve done a million times. Something we’ll do a million times more. Running is all we ever do. I never considered I might one day watch someone else run. It never crossed my mind I might care if someone else _did_. That someone outside my family could matter that much to me is inconceivable.

But Edward doesn’t _really_ matter to me, of course. I hardly know him. It’s just my sympathy, our trade, and the fact that I’m crushing on him that’s making me act so foolishly. I’d get over it quickly if he left, I’m sure. I’d remember him fondly but that’s it. Honestly, with my luck, we’d disappear ourselves not long after the Cullens anyway.

Yet here I am. Fiery conviction racing through my veins to protect a family I have nothing to do with. Rushing across an open parking lot during a fire drill I set off. Heaving a mostly metal desk-chair towards the dumpsters in a vengeful downpour. Ugh. I’m such a Gryffindor.

It takes a good minute to actually lift the desk high enough for it to fall into the dumpster. It does so hitting one of the metal walls with a low but obnoxiously loud _CLANG!_ I swing the lid shut and I sprint from the scene of the crime. In the distance, I hear the wailing of sirens.

Instead of running straight to the field, I run to the surrounding forest instead. Hidden by the trees, I make way to the other end of the school towards the assembly. A few of the trees jut out closer to the field. I crouch and stalk unseen between them until only one tree hides me.

I bolt across the open space then weave through the throng of students. Once I’m a fair distance in the crowd, I tap someone’s shoulder and ask where I’m supposed to be. They stare at me in surprise then cup their mouth and shout as loud as they can through the rain to the front of the assembly.

“Mr. Greene! Mr. Varner! She’s right here!”

Several hundred eyes turn to stare in my direction. I stare back. Not knowing what else to do, I raise my hand and give the crowd a small, awkward wave.

Dale is somewhere nearby. His feelings of worry quickly turned to exasperation. He wonders where the heck I’ve been and is 100% convinced I’m the reason his hair is sopping wet right now.

“Miss Dagwood!” a stern voice shouts, muffled slightly by the downpour. “Come here!”

I get to the front as fast as I can and find myself face to face with a small-eyed man glaring at me. Mr. Varner is doing the same close behind him.

“Where were you? Why weren’t you with your class?” the man, Mr. Greene I assume, demands.

“I-I… I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know where I was supposed to be.”

“Then why didn’t you answer when we called your name?”

“I… guess I didn’t hear you, sir.”

“Didn’t hear us?” Mr. Varner snaps, red in the face. “We called your name six times, Dagwood! _Six!_ We were about to send a search party through the school!”

“Oh.” Good thing I got here when I did then.

Mr. Varner’s face gets redder and Mr. Greene’s scowl deepens at my lackluster response.

“I’m very sorry, sirs!” I amend quickly. “I was trying to find my brother and sister. I was so freaked out by the fire in class, I— I guess I panicked and just wasn’t listening. I’m really, really, _really_ sorry though!”

Mr. Greene shakes his head. “Once we get the all clear, you and I are going to have a talk in my office, Miss Dagwood. Now get in line.”

“Yes, sir. Which line?”

Mr. Varner steps forward. He grabs my arm as if I’m about to disappear again and drags me to the very last row.

“There,” he says letting go roughly. “Behind Cullen.”

I stumble forward and fight the urge to turn around and glare daggers at him. I’m already in enough trouble as it is. My glare latches onto the grass instead. Overhead, a small spit of lightning crackles in the sky. It’s pitiful. It also takes so much energy out of me – energy I _don’t_ have and didn’t mean to spend – I nearly stagger into Edward trying to get to my spot.

Three hundred some-odd students wait for the fire department to give us the all clear. The rain cascades down on us like a waterfall as our dry coats wait for us in our classrooms. Everyone is wet, cold, and going to die of pneumonia because of my little stunt. They buzz about the fire while we wait to die. The kids in my class retell the tale a hundred times until I can hardly recognize the story myself.

 _Apparently_ , there was a ticking noise inside the wall that only a few had noticed during class. The fire exploded with a deafening boom. It was so large it torched the ceiling and engulfed the doorway. Mr. Varner was nearly caught in the flames and wouldn’t let anyone escape through the window until they turned in their homework. Some speculate they couldn’t find me earlier because I failed to turn it in and Mr. Varner left me to burn.

I scoff quietly at the absurdity of the whole thing. If the story’s this bad over  _here_ , I can only imagine how ridiculous it must be at the other end of the field. The grander and crazier the story becomes, the angrier Chris will be with me. Dale already knows I had something to do with this predicament and she’s definitely come to the same conclusion. Why else would it take me so long to get to the field?

They’re going to want answers. What am I supposed to tell them? Oh, hey, this kid in my class broke one of those metal desk-chair things, and I have a crush on him so I decided to save him from getting found out by starting a fire. _Teehee!_ Just one of those days, guyz! :D

I rub my arm, already feeling the bruises Chris will give me. Not to mention I’ve got that Mr. Greene to contend with. I’ll have to pull out the airhead act. Only a total moron wouldn’t realize they were supposed to be in line when everyone else was and ignore their name being called… how many times did they say? Six? Yeah. I’ll need to be the Idiot of the Year.

I take a large breath and sigh deeply. In front of me, Edward tilts his ear to the sound but doesn’t turn. What did he and Alice talk about, I wonder? Did they even have enough time to really talk before the fire? I want to ask, in the most general of words, if things are okay between us. If this trade works for them like it works for me.

Then again, it’s incredibly unlikely that Edward has the final say over such things in his family. He probably has to tell whoever’s in charge. Which means telling his mother or father – or maybe both, or even his whole family – about today. The day I shocked him, too. Knowing both sides is the only way the whole thing would make any sense. They’ll know I’m different. But they’ll know I know Edward is different, too. That should, _hopefully_ , dissuade them from trying anything with me or my family.

 _Hopefully_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally 35 pages... so I cut it in half-ish to only 17 pages.
> 
> Did you like it? Anything I could improve? Anything that really tickled your fancy?
> 
> Please let me know! I love hearing your thoughts!


	5. Hide & Secrets

 

The all clear comes and goes. I defend my “inattention” at the assembly using the dumbass, panicky airhead card. Mr. Greene, who turns out to be the principal, doesn’t buy it at first. But after enough ditzy looks and slow, superficial responses he seems to start believing me. He gives me two hours of detention and tells me he’ll be calling Cypress, our legal guardian on the school’s forms, before letting me go.

Rather than spend the last few minutes of second period with Jessica breathing down my neck, I walk to Building 2 and wait outside Mr. Banner’s room. When the bell finally rings, Alice shows up not even ten seconds later. We stare at each other in surprise. It seems neither of us expected the other to be there so soon.

I force myself to smile. “Hey, Alice.”

Her surprised features stay in place for a few more seconds before giving way to a very cautious smile.

“Hi, Amethyst.”

“I heard through the grapevine you guys went on a family outing yesterday. How was it?”

“Good. We were caught a bit off guard,” she mutters lightly. “We weren’t expecting it to be sunny yesterday.”

“Never trust a weatherman, that’s what Dale likes to say.” Actually, he likes to say never trust a weatherman while _I'm_ around but Alice doesn’t need to know that part. “You’re welcome to look at my notes from yesterday if you want. Mr. Banner switched to Yiddish in the middle of the lesson though, so I don’t know how helpful they’ll be.”

She smiles genuinely and thanks me before we step into class. The rest of the period runs with surprising smoothness.

Like any other day, she helps me with my notes and randomly looks off into the distance. Neither of us brings up or hints at anything off-limits but we do share a few disbelieving smiles and giggles now and then. It’s nice. We pack up and start walking to Gym with the same amazing sense of ease.

About halfway there, something shifts in the air. I glance over at Alice who still looks pleasant then around us trying to figure out what it is.

"Is something wrong, Amethyst?"

"I'm not—"

_“AMETHYST,"_  Chris roars from somewhere behind us, _"YOU MOTHER FUCKER!”_

“Bye, Alice!” I shriek and start running like hell.

“You fucking dumbass!” Chris screams right on my heels. “I’m going to kick your ass!”

“No, thanks! I’m good!” I say ducking a corner.

“Get back here, you goddamn shithole!”

I run around the building twice. When she suddenly goes quiet, I skid to a stop and look behind me. She isn’t there. I bolt in the opposite direction through a sea of students.

_“Amethyst Abilene!”_

Barely glancing over my shoulder, I see Chris stomp her foot. She’s pissed I didn’t run around the building again like she planned. She catches sight of me and starts after me again.

Turning to face forward, a blue head of hair catches my attention. Samantha's holding a jacket in her hands. I yank off my coat and race towards her.

“Sam!” She turns, then shrieks in surprise when my coat flies into her face. I swipe her jacket as I run away. “Thanks! Trade back later!”

I turn the corner around another building and fly into one of the open doors. My bag falls to the floor as I hurry into Sam’s hoodie. When my head pops out, everyone in the room is staring at me. Certainly making a name for myself today, aren’t I?

I briefly lock onto a set of black-gold eyes in the back of the class, Jasper I realize, then smile and wave to the room.

“Can I help you?” the teacher asks.

“No, ma’am.” I pull up the hood and throw my bag back over my shoulder before shortening the strap some. “Sorry for interrupting.”

The warning bell rings as I peek outside. The hood is a bit big and I need to hold it up in order to look both ways. Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I bolt for the locker rooms.

I reach them without incident. Once I finish getting changed into my gym uniform, I find Alice waiting for me in the hall leading to the gym.

“What was that about?”

“Oh, you know,” I say nonchalantly. “Chris is always mad at me for something or other.”

“Why?”

I shrug. Because I draw unnecessary attention to myself by starting fires, perhaps?

“Just sibling stuff, I guess.”

She scrunches her nose. “What’s that smell?”

“What smell?” I sniff the air around us.

Alice shifts a bit closer to me. I bring a piece of my gym uniform to my nose, hoping it doesn’t completely reek, then my hair. There’s a very subtle difference from usual. I sniff my hair again trying to place it.

“I borrowed one of my friend’s jackets?” I offer. It’s the only explanation I can think of. “Do I smell bad?”

She shakes her head. “No, just… it’s stronger than how you usually smell.”

“You think so?”

She shrugs nonchalantly as we enter the gym and go our separate ways.

My team is up against Edward’s again today. He’s goalie again but I never get close enough to try and score. Other than him keeping a very close eye on me – and getting the briefest, most bewildered look after I give him a friendly smile – it’s a perfectly average day in Gym.

Instead of going straight to lunch with Lauren like usual, I excuse myself and go outside to hide behind Building 2. The bell rings and Dale, who just had English in Building 3, doesn’t notice me in his mad dash to get to the cafeteria. Chris is coming from Honors Geography on the other side of the school but I wouldn’t put it past her to get here record time if she’s still pissed.

After several long minutes of waiting, the pair comes stalking out of the cafeteria. I’m far enough away that Dale can’t sense me but that means I can’t sense him either. I hold up the hood of Samantha’s jacket while curiously watching them split into opposite directions.

Dale heads towards Building 4, where my locker is, while Chris turns the corner around the large building. I carefully creep towards the door. Fast enough so Dale won’t see me if he turns around but slow enough to not garner too much attention. Once I’m in, I hurry to the lunch line.

Since I’m usually one of the first to get my lunch, the large, slow-moving line is a shock to me. Impatiently, step by step, the line creeps forward. I buy a burrito and an apple — things easy to eat while you’re on the run. Despite being cold in the center, the burrito is almost completely gone by the time I approach Jessica.

“Hey, Jess, can you take my bag to class with you?”

She gives me an odd look. “What for? You know, your brother and sister were just looking for you.”

“I know. That’s why I need you to take it. I promise I’ll tell you later, okay?” Curious with the possibility of something juicy, she agrees and I plop my bag down next to hers. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

I give the table a quick wave and skirt towards one of the doors. I step out of the cafeteria and into the long hall conjoining it to the gym and locker rooms. Halfway down the corridor, Chris enters from the other side. She notices me immediately and starts sprinting. Her blue eyes blaze like icy hellfire, their unnatural glow intensified by her rage.

My feet stumble over themselves as I run back into the cafeteria and rush to find cover. I dart behind the salad bar just as the hall doors slam open. The room falls to a hush. It’s so quiet I need to hold my breath to keep from being heard. The only sound at all is the squeak of Chris’s wet shoes. Even that stops.

“ _What!?”_ she barks.

The room instantly starts chattering again. If she resumes walking, it’s too loud to tell. I let myself breathe again.

“Dude, isn’t that Dale’s youngest sister?” someone near me murmurs.

“I think so,” their friend answers. “Kind of a firecracker, huh?”

I fight back a snort at the comparison. Firecrackers burst in rapid succession at the tiniest spark. They’re small, don’t do much damage, and die out quickly. Chris, on the other hand, seethes beneath the surface as little things build and build. Until she explodes. Then everything she’s been bottling up for weeks or months comes pouring out, leaving nothing but destruction in her wake.

Firecracker indeed.

Dale comes in a few seconds later, the sudden feeling of his irritation and concern tipping me off. He realizes I’m in the room too and pours all of his focus into our connection. I use my remaining strength to keep the brunt of my thoughts from him. He welcomes the challenge, pushing harder to open the channel. Swearing internally, I force my mental walls to harden as much as possible and glance around the room for an escape.

Eyeing the doors behind the lunch counter, I get into a crouching position. They must lead to the kitchens, a place off-limits to students but definitely with a backdoor of some sort. How much trouble can a witch get into on this fine day? Let’s find out.

            _“WHAT!?”_

The high, striking voice startles me from my plan. Much like this morning, adrenaline courses through my body at a startling speed. Rather than jump the counter, I turn to the source of the scream and choke back my own.

From the Cullen table, Rosalie is staring dead at me. Not even Chris’s rage is a match for the hellish, white-hot fury burning through her eyes and into my soul. Edward grabs her arm, capturing her seething gaze, and speaks to her urgently. His outrage suddenly flashes across the table at Jasper who hasn’t moved a muscle.

None of the Cullens are really what you’d call “unassuming”, but before this moment I had pegged Jasper as an anxious and distant person. Despite the uncertain look in his eyes the other day, he played along with Dale and me when we were being theatrical and silly. That made him okay in my book.

There’s nothing inherently malicious about the way he’s sitting right now. A little tense but that tends to be his default state. His expression isn’t threatening, either. He isn’t glowering or scowling hard enough for any lines to form on his impossibly smooth face. He’s simply staring at me. His gaze is hard and set, but not cruel. He has something important to do, and though it’s nothing personal, he will not waiver from it. And he’ll do whatever it is with the same precision and indifference only someone with years of experience could.

Alarms scream in my head to  _run. Run. Run! **RUN!**_ But no matter how my mind shrieks, my body refuses to budge. Despite drowning in adrenaline, I’m paralyzed. My body is petrified with incomprehensible fear.

Alice’s hand slowly takes Jasper arm. She is gentle with him, loving. Not at all the way Edward was with Rosalie. Jasper responds by breaking his gaze from me and looking at her.

A huge gasp of air forces its way down my throat. Just him not looking at me anymore is enough to get me moving again. My body shudders and aches in its crouched position. I turn towards the kitchen door once more, ready to make a run for it.

_“Gotcha!”_

I shriek like a banshee as a pair of hands grab me. Chris and Dale aren’t expecting the hellish sound and almost lose their grip on me, but no. They hold on tight and start leading me towards the door.

My thrashing doesn’t bother either of them. Dale’s tall enough to keep my forearm at a painful angle without any trouble. And even though I’ve got about three or four inches over Chris, she’s _much_ stronger than me. She squeezes my arm tightly, forcing me to stop struggling. I clench the apple I’m still holding in pain.

“Emergency meeting, Head Asshole.”

I grimace. Chris never refers to me as Head Witch, directly or otherwise, unless someone is in deep trouble. I look to Dale for help but he just grins.

“You’re in a _lot_ of trouble, Sunshine.” Despite his chipper tone, he’s dead serious.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. I don’t want to be alone with these two right now. Maybe I can tell them everything later, at the motel. Better yet, in the car. Cypress doesn’t like hearing about magic stuff when he can help it but the Bronco’s rusty metal cab can hold secrets much better than the paper thin walls of a motel.

Either way, I can’t tell Chris and Dale anything now. It would be too risky. Not with the Cullens scrutinizing me so carefully. Half of them are already prepared to keep Edward’s secret safe anyway they can. Them watching my brother and sister haul me out of a room for a private chat will not sedate their worries by any means.

I shudder. Dale notices.

If I want to pacify their mistrust I have to do something. Show them they’ve got nothing to worry about. Act natural. Either that or… do something drastic.

“She’s plotting something, Petal,” Dale warns aloud. “Keep your eyes—”

I catapult my apple into Chris’s face. She yelps at the sudden attack and instinctually swats at it, releasing me.

Dale jumps at her reaction, losing the angle he was holding my arm at. That makes it easy for me to twist his hand and release myself completely. It catches him off guard and I spin him towards Chris as if trading partners in a dance.

As soon as his hold on me breaks, I bolt. Rather than vault the lunch counter or sprint to the room’s other exit – both pointless against Dale’s mile-long legs – I race for an empty table. Feeling Dale’s fingers on the fringe of my coat, I drop to the floor and slide beneath it like a runner striving for home plate.

Dale lets out a painful squawk as the table legs scrape across the floor. Getting to my knees, I find him doubled over the table and Chris rushing to catch up to the action.

I debate very quickly between running for the door, putting off this meeting until we’re somewhere private where they can really let me have it, or sticking around and forcing us to all stay nice under the Cullens’ watchful eyes. And they are watching. Very openly. Along with the rest of the student body.

With a grin, I casually take a seat at the table. “Did you want to talk about something?”

Chris hurls the apple at me. It hits me full-force in the gut and I double over coughing and sputtering. It takes an excruciatingly long time for me to figure out how to breathe again. I scowl up at her. She stares back from the seat she’s taken across from me, stone-cold and unapologetic.

 “You deserved that,” she hisses.

Dale, sitting beside her with his hands under the table, looking greatly pained, nods avidly. He wants me to suffer because _he’s_ suffering.

I shake my head. “You shouldn’t’ve been chasing me in the first place,” I argue, slowly straightening out as the pain starts to ebb away.

 “If we didn’t talk now, you would’ve avoided us until after school,” Dale says in a hush. “This is a terrible place to talk, by the way.”

He glances over his shoulder at a nearby group of Norms. He sends them a wink to dissuade them. A few girls giggle and watch with even more interest.

“You’re not helping,” I force, rubbing my gut. “Dang it, Chris, you didn’t have to throw so hard!”

She leans back in her seat, crosses her arms, and shrugs carelessly. “You’ll heal.” She makes no move to help with that process.

With a groan, I stop pressing against my chest and set the cursed apple down on the table. It takes a bit longer to get over the ache. My chest must still be sore from running into Edward earlier.

His eyes as they were this morning come to mind. Calculating and set, similar to his brother’s but lacking the detached soldier-like stare. The expression melds with confusion before giving way to utter awe.

I smile softly at the memory then frown as I turn to my siblings. There’s too much to confess and no way to justify any of it. Skipping the assembly to destroy the leftovers of _someone else’s_ screw up, starting a fire, trading vague secrets on the fly…

What should I say when they ask why I didn’t find them and flee Forks as fast as possible when I felt my life being threatened at the start of the morning? How do I explain screwing up today for someone else’s sake? How can I justify not telling them that I already screwed up _days_ ago?

Edward’s known I’m not normal for several days without their knowledge. He chose to “forget” that morning. He _chose_ to do that for me. He chose to let me stay “normal”. I never even considered brewing something to make him forget for real. In fact, the possibility only dawns on me now as I stare at my siblings’ grave and angry faces.

But wipingEdward’s memory… that would change everything. His actions would be erased from his mind. An act so starkly kind and unique in my life would be left only to exist within my own memories. It would be less real. With just me left to remember it, his choice would be… hollow. But I don’t need to worry about that now.

At this point, the potion would have to be strong enough to make him forget an entire week and that would be too dangerous. The way his family stares so knowingly at me makes it clear they would notice if he suddenly forgot everything. We could try to slip something to all of them, but what about their parents? Their parents' co-workers? Their father’s a doctor, for goodness sake! We can’t make a fricken _doctor_ forget everything he’s seen and done in a week!

If I tell my siblings everything now, they might think I planned it this way. That I was withholding this information until we _couldn’t_ erase his memories. Dale would undoubtedly make a connection between my crush on Edward and my stupid decisions.

He’s done a phenomenal job of keeping that secret to himself, by the way. He knows I’ll reveal every embarrassing thing about him to every girl in this school – and the next two or three – if he tells _anyone_ about my minor infatuation. _Especially_ our siblings. But how would he, how would any of them feel to learn that I’ve been keeping all these secrets from them?

Dale frowns. My thoughts are twisting and jumping too fast for him to fully comprehend. I’ve always been better at understanding him than the other way around but he’s still picking up on things.

He knows Edward is a part of this somehow. He knows I’m feeling guilty. That I’m considering multiple alternatives to a problem. And he knows I’m keeping secrets from them. He wants to know what they are. He wonders, a little hurt, what it is I could possibly be choosing to hide from him. And why.

It dawns on me that, regardless of what I do now, I don’t  _want_ to tell my siblings what happened today. Not today or earlier this week. These are _my_ choices. Edward’s choices and _my_ consequences. Secrets primarily between him and me. It’s selfish and stupid but I want to keep it that way. Just between us.

I sink my teeth into the juicy red apple.

“So,” I finally begin. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Chris repeats. She leans over the table. “ _What’s up?_ What the fuck do you think is up, Amethyst? We haven’t even been here a full goddamn week and you’re already fucking shit up.”

“I’m not fucking anything up.” I quickly take another bite, hoping I didn’t put too much stress on certain words.

Dale narrows his eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

I chew slowly, my face giving away nothing. That in itself might be a giveaway. The lingering guilt certainly is.

Chris leans closer, her voice so low my ears strain to hear her. “You started that fire, didn’t you?”

“Okay, first,” I say holding up a finger, “I would hardly call it a fire. It was a tiny little burst of flames that died as soon as it appeared. The way stories get skewed so fast at this school you’d think it was a sport. Second, I was in my seat in the back row as far as anyone could be from the fire. Ask anyone. Mike and Angela were right next to me when it happened. They’ll tell you I wasn’t anywhere near it.”

Dale doesn’t buy it. Chris’s face tells me she doesn’t either. We all know I don’t actually need to be close to something to set it on fire, accidentally or otherwise. Dale also knows I’m holding something back. A lot of things back.

I turn to him, keeping my mind off of anything incriminating. “And why, pray tell, would I do something like that?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he grumbles. The last time I kept secrets so purposefully from him it was not good. Not good at all. His mind grows heavy with memories I’d rather we all forget.

I shake my head strongly. This isn’t like then. Not even a little bit. He’s worrying over nothing.

He glares. He doesn’t like it when I brush aside his concerns like that, especially when it could be something so serious.

“It’s nothing like that,” I say aloud this time. “I’m fine.”

“I’m _going_ to figure this out,” he tells me.

With a hum, I search my apple for another place to bite. “Well, good luck. Let me know what you come up with.”

“Or you could just, I don’t know, _tell_ your kind and caring brother what’s going on?”

 “I could but my burrito was cold in the center.”

_“So?”_

“So, _obviously,_ I have to take it out on _somebody_.”

Dale throws his hands up in the air and looks to the different tables around us, hoping someone else sees and agrees that I’m being absurd. He tries to lock eyes with a few different people but they all look away as soon as he does, embarrassed to have been caught trying to eavesdrop. Unable to share his exasperation with anyone, he huffs and dramatically slumps in his seat.

Chris rolls her eyes at him but doesn’t lose sight of the conversation. “Are you in trouble?” she asks in a low voice.

Rosalie and Jasper’s faces jump into my mind. I have to force my eyes to stay on her and not glance at the Cullen table.

Dale’s eyes shoot up when he feels my heart drop. Crap. He can feel my anxiety. It feeds his own which feeds mine and vice versa in a horrible cycle. _Crap._ I need to get away from him.

With an easy smile, I stand and drift over to their side of the table. “When am I _not_ in trouble?” I ruffle Chris’s hair in a very Dale-like fashion. She grabs at me but I jump away and pocket my hands to keep her from breaking my fingers.

“You know what I mean,” she chides.

“Yes, I do.”

“Amethyst,” Dale says in a warning tone. Chris and I both look at him in surprise. He rarely speaks that way, in a deep, serious tone that nearly mimics Cy. It’s almost as rare as him calling me by my full name.

I glance between the two of them, stuck.

“Tell you what: you wanna know if I’m in trouble?” I snatch his bag off his back, pull out his English book, and hand it to Chris. “You tell me.”

She gives me a suspicious look but takes it anyway. She flips through all the pages a few times, forward and backward and forward again before stopping on a random page. She lays the book flat and puts her finger down without looking. Dale and I glance over her shoulder as she reads aloud.

_“There must be a few times in life when you stand at a precipice of a decision._ _Where you know there will forever be a Before and an After.”_ She pauses, then slams the book shut. “What the fuck does that mean? Have you been making some bullshit life-altering decisions lately?”

I shrug and shake my head. But as I take the last bite of my apple I mull over it a bit more…

I decided to allow myself a crush on someone. That’s life-altering for me at least. I decided to trade that crush’s screw up for my screw up, so that’s two. Since we started this school, I’ve done nothing but purposefully keep things hidden from my siblings — three. And, of course, none of this would’ve come about if I hadn’t decided to sit in the very back of Trig that day.

What would’ve happened, I wonder, if I chose to sit in the front of the room instead? If I sat on Mike’s other side with Edward blocked from my view? If I told my siblings right away after zapping him like I should have? Have I been making life-altering decision this whole time?

Unable to help myself, I peek over at the Cullen table for answers. Five pairs of oddly colored eyes stare back at me.

Rosalie no longer looks ready to vault over the table and smite me where I stand. Though, her glare tells me she hasn’t dismissed the idea completely. Jasper, with Alice’s arms lovingly wrapped around him, doesn’t seem quite as… _set_ as before. He isn’t relaxed by any means, but the calculating look in his eye has shifted to something a smidge more… lenient. Alice rests her head on his shoulder, eyes hazy and a small pout on her lips.

Emmett is the only one who doesn’t hold my gaze with statue-like precision. Instead, he glances across the table at Jasper, flickers over Alice in thought, then lingers on Rosalie before turning to Edward.

He stares at his brother a long time. Then, as if deciding something, he very purposefully takes Rosalie’s hand. That breaks her attention on me. Her glare softens under his devoted smile but only slightly.

Even with the distance between us, Edward’s eyes – the cause of this whole mess when you get right down to it – take me captive once again. Black like Death. Gold like Life. We haven’t been here long at all, yet for better or worse that startling gaze is already starting to have an effect on my tumultuous life.

He stares at me like he’s waiting for something. An answer of some sort. Is this moment the precipice of my life? Is it his? Is his presence some kind of deciding factor? Where exactly is the line between Before and After? Have we already crossed it? Was it when we first locked eyes? The electric shock that soon followed? This morning’s silent trade?

My lips twitch at the memory. I have to look away as a few snickers slip out. When I look again, Edward isn’t wearing the same expression I’m remembering but it’s pretty darn close. A flood of laughter tumbles out of me and I have to grip Dale’s chair for support.

My brother instantly starts to worry about me. “She’s lost her mind,” he says.

“You’d be the first to know,” Chris returns flatly.

I collect myself slowly but once the laughter is contained my resolution is stronger than ever. Dale raises a brow but I open my mouth first.

“Technically, isn’t every decision we make life-altering? If I had chosen pizza instead of that disappointing burrito and sat down with everyone for lunch instead of trying to hide, we wouldn’t have been able to have this conversation until later. You two would’ve gotten even madder and we probably would’ve had a big fight. Or,” I muse, still feeling bubbly, “if I decided to skip lunch altogether to avoid you two, I would’ve been starved and in a terrible mood whenever you did confront me. Battle lines might’ve been drawn; blood may have been spilled. Really, we should all be grateful I took the sad burrito.”

Chris shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”

“I certainly strive to be.”

She glares at me. Still grinning, I pull off Samantha’s jacket and glance around for her. As soon as I spot her blue hair I start making my way toward her table.

“You two better go get some food. Lunch is almost over, you know.”

“This conversation’s not over, Sunshine!” Dale calls after me. “I’m still gonna figure this out!”

I wave a hand over my shoulder. Edward’s face comes back to me and a giggle slips out.

_“Thunderstruck_ ,” I mutter to myself, grinning.

My shoulders shake trying to restrain the laughter. A few snickers crack through. My body feels light and warm, giddy with mirth. The image of that beautiful, astonished face is going to stay with me for the rest of my life — however short it may be.

* * *

 

The next few hours are torturous. When Dale isn’t hounding me himself—

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me.”

—his legion of fangirls does it for him. They don’t ask me what I’m hiding though. Instead—

“Dale was super upset you felt like you couldn’t talk to him.”

“He was so sad earlier. He wants you to trust him.”

“You should really talk to your brother. He was nearly in tears in Calculus! He only wants what’s best for you.”

“You two are practically twins. Aren’t you _supposed_ to tell each other everything?”

—they try to guilt me into talking to him and telling him everything.

If I didn’t know any better I might think he used some kind of spell to have them hunt me down. But the only magic he needs is a combination of his big blue eyes, natural charm, and ability to produce tears on command. Throughout Drama, Government, and even detention, an entire cluster of girls has me surrounded on all sides.

In Drama, Rosalie’s hard eyes do not waver from me but I have no time, or privacy, to give her concerns the attention they deserve. In Government, Sam, Tyler, and Zac send me sympathetic glances as I’m persistently hounded. Kyle laughs at me.

Chris, annoyed with me and the fact she got caught swearing while hunting me down earlier, doesn’t acknowledge me or my suffering at all during detention. Towards the very end, she does tell one girl to shut up but that was more for her own sanity than mine. The exact words she uses gain her another afternoon of detention for improper language.

By the time we’re out, the air is still thick and wet but the rain itself has finally ceased. Dale waits casually in our usual spot by the Front Office. The moment Chris and I sit beside him he starts again.

“Tell me.”

“For crying out loud…”

“Tell me.”

“No. Go away.”

“Tell me!”

“There’s nothing to tell!”

“Tell me!”

We keep this up for nearly half an hour.

Eventually, I stop responding but he keeps it up. I block him out as best as I can. Having managed to finish all my homework in detention despite the constant barrage of unjust guilt-trips – I glare at Dale – I distract myself by glancing over the parking lot.

By now, most of the cars are gone. Only a small handful remain, including a shiny silver Volvo. It’s easily the cleanest, most expensive, and newest car in the entire lot on any given day.

I spend a few minutes glowering at it. Both because Dale is annoying the ever-loving _CRAP_ out of me and because it could be either Mr. Greene’s or Mr. Varner’s car. I imagine a few different scenarios involving that car, eggs, jolly ranchers, duct tape, lightning, and baseball-sized hail.

Chris eventually loses her patience with Dale and punches him hard enough to make him shut up. For five sweet, sweet minutes he’s completely silent but he’s just waiting for the chance to start up again.

It comes when Chris excuses herself to the bathroom. The second she turns the corner, I can feel the countdown commence:

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two—

“So what are you hiding?”

“Are you going to do this all night?”

“Yes. All night. All weekend. All month. All year. All of forever.”

I let out an unholy groan and sprawl out over the concrete. “ _Whhhhhy_ are you so _annoyinnnng?”_

“It’s a talent,” he jokes, then laughs when I flip him off. “C’mon, Sunshine, just spill it.”

I fold my arms and set my crossed heels up against the wall. Glaring at the covering above us I start to murmur a random song in warning. Dale doesn’t take the hint and opens his mouth again.

“What’s the big deal? I know Chris gives you a hard time about messing up but you know I won’t.”

“She’s got a right to be,” I argue, miffed that they’re so convinced _I’m_ the one who messed up today. Which I kind of did. But the fact that it’s so easy for them to come to that conclusion still annoys me.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s right _of_ her.” Dale shuffles onto his stomach, as close to the cold hard concrete as I am. “C’mon, Am.” He flips onto his back. His legs go much further up the wall than mine but he otherwise mimics my pose perfectly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

His sincerity shakes my resolve. I want to keep Edward’s secrets _my_ secrets… but I don’t want to straight up _lie_ to my brother either. With a huff, I right myself and stand. Dale follows me up, hoping for some progress.

“So did you start it on accident?” he asks eagerly. “Or was it a cover-up?”

I lean against a metal pole holding up the overhead shelter and cast my gaze over the parking lot once more. The shiny Volvo catches my eye for an instant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answer dully.

Dale groans, annoyed and disappointed. He wonders what’s going on with me, why I’m so set on keeping him in the dark. These thoughts bounce around my head with near-perfect clarity, like he’s shouting them in his own mind to be sure I’ll “overhear” them.

He worries about me as well. He’s _always_ worrying about me. How is he supposed to help me, _protect_ me, when I won’t even talk to him?

I sigh. The guilt gnaws at me. I bring my knuckles to my lips, contemplating. My focus reroutes to the dumpsters. They appear undisturbed.

“But—” he perks at the muffled sound of my voice “—if I _did_ start something _…_ it would be the latter reason.”

There’s a sudden spike of giddiness in him. “So then you missing the assembly was—”

“I was looking for you and Chris.”

“Right, of course, naturally,” he agrees, nodding along.“But if, for some completely hypothetical reason, you were doing something _else,_ that something else would have to have been _reeeally_ important. Like, oh, I dunno… cleaning up a mess?”

“If that were the case, yes. But like I said, I was just panicking looking for you two.”

“So everything’s… _good?”_

“Good,” I spare another glance towards the dumpsters, “or on its way to being good, I guess.”

Dale throws me into a surprise headlock and grinds his knuckles playfully against my head. I shriek loudly and throttle against his grip. His laughter is clear and warm. He’s ecstatic for “winning” a confession from me and for me taking care of my own mess so quickly.

“I swear to god I’ll shock you if you don’t—” He lets me go so fast, he practically launches me to the floor.

My hands and knees smack against the concrete making me yelp. I glare up at him. He’s standing further away, hands up in surrender, but still grinning.

Lucky for him, Chris rounds the corner. She barely glances our way. Only giving us an exasperated look as she returns to her seat and reopens her book.

Dale sticks his tongue out victoriously. He knows I won’t dare risk using my magic so openly around her. Not when she’s already so pissed at me for misusing it earlier in the day.

My scowl intensifies. I go to flip him off but the slight burn on my palm takes my attention. In a panic, I bring both hands close to my face. The skin is white and lightly scuffed but there’s no blood.

With a soft sigh of relief, I lick my thumb and lightly spread it across the tiny scrapes. They’re small and insignificant but I still don’t want to be bothered by them.

The broken skin tingles softly. Despite being smaller and less intense than seared fingers, my magical exhaustion – which I seem to keep pushing today – makes the healing process considerably slower than normal.

My eyes lift at the sound of a large, heavy truck pulling into the school parking lot. I stare in surprise then glare. Fate is not my friend. Coincidence and Fate sometimes work hand-in-hand, making unexpected events such as these – no matter how favorable they appear on the surface – downright untrustworthy.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine?” Dale taunts, cocky under Chris’s (unwitting) protection. “Never seen a trash truck before?”

“Not one with such good timing,” I mutter to myself and watch as the workers connect the first dumpster to the truck’s lift.

Dale cautiously comes to watch with me. He doesn’t understand the intensity of my gaze as they start to hook up the second dumpster or my inner battle over how to take this turn of events. It’s just a dump truck, he muses. There’s nothing new or exciting about that, is there?

The spark realization hits him so suddenly I reflexively glance his way.

“Anything interesting in there, Sunshine?”

I wait until the dumpster tips over, until I see the desk fall in with my own two eyes, before I answer. A heavy weight lifts from my chest and I breathe a little easier. Dale gives me an odd look.

“Lots of interesting things end up in trash dumps,” I tell him. “Did you know that dumps are an archaeologist’s dream site? They tell you everything you need to know about a civilization: what they ate, what they wore, recreational activities, important cultural symbols… All sorts of neat stuff.”

He stares at me a moment longer, trying to figure out what I’m going on about. “Is this your way of telling me you want to go dumpster diving? Cuz I’ll do it but I need something to protect my hair with first.” I roll my eyes at him. “Hey, hey, are you aware of how much time and effort goes into looking this good?”

“ _Painfully_. C’mon,” I say as the rusty red Bronco pulls into the parking lot, “I want to see if I can sleep another 12 hours straight.”

            Before Chris is even in the car she explodes, telling Cypress _everything_ about our day. Despite the call he got from Mr. Greene, he keeps quiet lets her go off. She tells him I fucked up, _again_ , and about her and Dale hunting me down, and how annoying Dale and his “zombies” were for the last part of the day.

            I huff and stare out the window, not even bothering to correct or argue with her. She’ll run out of steam eventually. Hopefully sooner than later.

We pass the Volvo and my eyes widen in surprise. We’d been sitting in front of the school for nearly an hour. I assumed the car was empty but it’s actually completely full. There’s a flash of black and bronze in the driver’s side view mirror. My head whips around.

            _“What?”_ Chris snaps impatiently.

            Sure enough, the Cullens are sitting in the Volvo watching us intently. Edward, in the driver’s seat, turns around to address his siblings as he starts the car.

 Chris groans. I glance her way, surprised to find her staring back with me. And squinting.

“And _another_ fuckin’ thing!” She rubs her eyes and faces forward in her seat. “There’s a group of kids here who are… _weird_.”

My heart drops. Dale sends me a worried frown through the mirror then turns around in his seat.

“Weird like how?” he asks.

Cypress, not liking this kind of talk but knowing it needs to be said, glances at Chris through the rearview mirror.

“They’ve just got this weird sort of… energy, I guess. I don’t know how to explain it. They’re all really… I dunno… _bright?_ It’s hard for me to look at them.”

Unlike most witches who either don’t have the Sight at all, like Cypress, or need to train very hard and follow very certain steps to use it, like Dale, Chrysanthemum was born with the talent. Or cursed, as she likes to say. Though if I had no way to shut my eyes to the energies and entities of other dimensions, I’d call it a curse too.

The magical realms can be impossibly beautiful and serene. Filled with places you’d never want to leave and creatures you’d never want to look away from. But they’re also filled with dark horrors the human mind was not built to fathom.

Chris has to endure that day in and day out. She can’t shut it off. If she had any other eye color, interacting with Norms could be very difficult. Luckily though, most Norms don’t even notice their glow. To them, she just has exceedingly bright baby blues.

She’s so used to Seeing things in fact, she no longer even notices the individual energy around the average person. She has to actually focus to notice a Norm’s “aura”. With witches and other magic users, it’s more prominent but not extremely so. For the Cullens to be hard for her to look at only solidifies what I already know: they aren’t Normals.

“We should keep our distance,” she says. “They aren’t witches or shifters, but they could still be dangerous.”

I hum. She’s right.

If Edward can snap metal like a twig I don’t want to know what he could do to another human being. And if Edward can do something like that, then what about Alice? Those hazy looks she gets could be something equally unsettling.

And what about Rosalie? How did she know to ask about waltzing? Or Emmett and Jasper? If the _entire_ family is hard for her to look at, wouldn’t it make sense for them all to have, for lack of a better term, talents? If so, staying as far away from them as possible is the only smart move.

Rosalie’s unholy anger resurfaces in my mind. Jasper’s unsettling stare as well. My body shudders and my stomach starts to churn.

But then I think of Alice. The odd but comfortable air between us during biology today. How kind she’s always been to me before that. I think of Emmett’s confused but welcoming regard; the tiny smiles Rosalie always pushes down; Jasper putting himself out there to go along with our theatrics. And of course, I think of Edward.

I think of his eyes and his smile, his generosity, his utter awe in my actions. I think about the precipice of my life and what it is — or was. Again, Edward’s beautiful black-gold eyes flash to the forefront of my mind. I think of the Before and what, if anything, the After could possibly hold for me.

I should stay away from the Cullens. I understand that. Really, I do. It’s just… I don’t want to.

_Ugh_.

I roll my eyes and stare out the window. I am _such_ a Gryffindor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Chris reads is from North of Beautiful by Justina Chen.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of the chapter! (Also, I may not have read through this one as critically as usual before I posted it so if there are any errors, please let me know and I'll fix them right away!)


	6. Fake Fights and Real Deals

The weekend goes by with surprising speed.

Saturday morning I force Dale to drive me to Newman’s Olympic Outfitters, the place everyone’s meeting before we head to Port Angeles. If I can’t drag him along with me, he’s at least going to suffer through being my chauffeur. He whines and complains until I remind him that I never even wanted to go to the movies in the first place.

Mike, whose parents own the store, is the only one there when we arrive. Without any girls around to claim Dale’s attention, the two have a surprisingly pleasant conversation. When Jessica and Angela show up, however, it's a different story. Mike and I lean against his Suburban to shake our heads at him. Once Tyler gets there, Dale says goodbye and the rest of us pile into Tyler’s van.

The ride to Port Angeles isn’t bad. For once, Jessica and I talk about something other than my brother, and the boys keep telling joke after joke, almost like they’re trying to one-up each other. Angela and I laugh at the jokes themselves while Jess and I laugh at the boys’ ridiculousness.

The movie, a musical, is pretty good. On the ride home, the girls, Mike, and I try to sing the more memorable numbers but Tyler keeps singing off-key and switching up the lyrics to mess with us. I don’t tell Dale what a good time I had when he picks me up, but he clearly knows and proceeds to be smug about it for the rest of the day.

We spend most of Sunday singing the movie’s musical numbers together. Chris and Cy get so annoyed they lock us out of the room for several hours, but we just keep belting until they let us back in.

By the time I go to bed, however, my playfulness subsides. The Cullens have had an entire weekend to talk over what happened on Friday. Come tomorrow morning, I’ll know whether my trade was good enough… or not.

With everyone’s sleeping bags beneath me, I toss and turn in the makeshift bed and stare up at the motel bathroom ceiling late into the night. When sleep finally comes, my dreams are haunted by beautiful creatures.

The space is dark and empty. The only light at all shines out from their pale skin. Despite their radiance and angelic features, something tells me to keep my distance. I watch them, seven of them, huddle together and speak in hurried whispers.

One of the creatures, a tall and blonde female wearing a white gown, turns to look at me. Her eyes are deep red. A tall male in a grey, tattered uniform follows her line of sight. His eyes are red, too. 

The duo disappears. My heart rate doubles. The remaining creatures don’t seem to notice their missing kin. They’re all still as statues. Only their blurred lips move. Their red eyes fixed on one another.

A low, threatening sound creeps into my ears. It gets louder and louder, hungrily filling the empty space. My body tremors against the violent roar. I throw my hands over my eyes. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

My head whips around. White hands shoot out from the darkness. The finger-like claws are covered in blood. My blood. I scream and a lightning storm erupts around me.

I wake up in a cold sweat to the sound of shattering glass. In the next room, my siblings fall out of bed and thunder across the floor. I bolt upright in the tub. Cypress bursts through the door with Chris and Dale hot on his heels. Someone switches the lights on.

The mirror above the sink is in pieces. Thousands of tiny shards are spread across the countertop and floor. Thin dark streaks fracture the walls around me, some even reaching the ceiling. A black, palm-sized crater – their starting point – smokes lightly to my right.

“S-Sorry,” I choke out.

“Did something attack you?” Chris demands.

I shake my head. “No. Just a bad dream. Sorry.”

She scrunches her face while the boys each raise a brow.

Throwing around magic in my sleep was common enough when we were little, but now? Dale can’t wrap his head around it.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Cypress asks.

I shake my head.

He sighs softly then leaves the bathroom. He comes back in wearing his work boots and steps carefully across the broken glass. I stand shakily before he lifts me from the tub and delivers me to the bedroom.

“Dale,” he starts to ask, “is there any way you would—”

“I don’t mind,” he says slipping on a pair of shoes. He goes to the front office and comes back with a broom and dustpan. He sleeps in the tub for the rest of the night.

No one mentions the incident or my excessive use of Mom’s brew when morning comes — though Dale does grumble about the lack of a mirror. He spends the entire ride to school checking his reflection in the Bronco’s passenger mirror.

Cypress silently rubs my shoulder as I climb out of the car and Dale gently smooths my hair before going off on his own. My eyes flit over the parking lot as Chris and I walk towards the math building. My heart jumps to my throat when they land on the silver Volvo. I swallow hard, trying to force it back into my chest.

This is stupid. I’m a witch for goodness sake. And an Essence at that! What do I have to be scared of? Other than, you know, the usual demons, veiled monsters with dagger-like claws, witches with more greed in their veins than humanity… Rosalie’s rage… that look in Jasper’s eyes… Edward’s inhuman strength…

I shake my head. If there’s one thing I don’t want to be afraid of, it’s Edward.

If it were just up to him, I know he’d honor our trade. I saw him arguing on my behalf in the cafeteria when Rosalie and Jasper were ready to pounce. He was in awe of my actions in the hall and I know he saw his broken desk fall into the dump truck. He can trust me. I’m sure he knows that. I just hope he convinced the rest of his family to trust me, too.

Chris gives me a quick, one-armed hug.

“No fuck-ups today,” she mumbles before heading towards her own class.

“No fuck-ups,” I echo quietly. The white, blood coated claws from my dream resurface and I shudder. I douse myself with Mom’s potion once more for good measure.

“Good morning, Mr. Varner,” I greet, entering his classroom.

His face hardens when he sees me but he nods in my direction all the same. “Miss Dagwood.”

I spare a glance at where the fire alarm used to be. The school removed what was left of it from the wall. A large scorch mark and the taped-over hole are the only leftovers to indicate it was ever even there. I frown slightly at the mess then turn down my row.

Despite expecting it, it’s still unnerving to see Edward there waiting for me. He isn’t sitting in his usual spot, either. He’s sitting in the desk directly beside mind and smiles as I get closer. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve smiled back. Probably would’ve been eager to sit right next to him, too. As it is, all I can do is stare.

Even though he’s smiling, he’s regarding me carefully. Like an elusive creature that previously slipped under his radar. My carefully crafted cloak of normalcy doesn’t fool him anymore. Now, his eyes are sharply focused on my every move, trying to see past that second skin.

But that’s not the only thing different about his eyes. Where there  _ should  _ be black and a hint of gold – a beautiful eclipse, a trace of sunshine in a never-ending stretch of night – there are instead bright glittering  _ pools  _ of amber gold.

“Good morning, Amethyst. How was your weekend?”

It takes a few annoyingly long seconds for his words reach me.

“Huh— Wha— My weekend? Oh.” I start pulling supplies out of my bag, looking away from him so I can focus. “It was alright I guess. Went to see a movie with some friends. Annoyed my siblings. Rather pleasant actually.” Other than the nightmare, of course.

I turn towards him again, unable to fight my curiosity. His eyes are still the same enveloping gold. As if changing eye colors isn’t enough of a mind-fuck, the new color itself is just plain…  _ impossible.  _ It almost looks the same color of a hawk’s eye or an owl’s, but even  _ that’s  _ not a proper comparison.

The shade is far too… radiant. An impossible assortment of warm, brilliant colors that blend together perfectly and shine beautifully. Almost inhumanly so. Only a master of transfiguration could even come  _ close  _ to creating such a color — not to mention keeping it in place!

Changing your eye color – if you can even do it –  _ hurts _ . Your entire eyeball feels like it’s on fire. And the greater the difference between one’s natural color and the one they want (like near-black to warm freaking  _ honey _ ) the more difficult the transformation is to hold on to.

They say a true master overcomes those setbacks and more, but how in the world is  _ Edward  _ doing that if he’s not even a witch in the first place? Chris said they weren’t witches – and I trust her judgment more than anybody’s – but if not a witch, what the hell else could he be? What else could change its appearance so minutely?

“How was your weekend?” I ask, surprising myself with how casual it sounds.

“Friday was… a bit hectic.”

I nod and fold my hands neatly in front of me.

“Saturday was all right,” he continues, “but Sunday seemed to last forever.” His face pulls into half a smirk. The joke, if there even is one, flies over my head but I still enjoy his smile.

“So, then…” I begin with the utmost caution. “Is everything…  _ okay _ ?”

“For the most part.” His grin sobers. “Though I do have some questions for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—” the phrase peels off my tongue with well-practiced ease and sloppy familiarity— “but I’ll answer what I can. As long as you do the same.”

He straightens out, one hand curling around the edge of his desk. “You have questions, too.”

“Naturally,” I nod, “but that wasn’t what I was saying.”

He quirks a brow. “What were you saying?”

I rub the back of my neck and look up at the ceiling, unsure how to explain it. This is such a strange conversation to be having with a Norm. No. Not a Norm. The Cullens are obviously  _ not  _ Norms. It’s an odd conversation to have with someone who  _ isn’t  _ a witch.

My mother’s had plenty of conversations like this with plenty of magical folks. I’ve done it once or twice myself with other young witches who recognized my use of magic but not my being an Essence. The basic rule is a simple extension of the first rule of witchcraft:  _ balance _ . Similar to how you have to be prepared to receive what you send out, in a conversation like this, you have to be prepared to give the same information you ask for.

“Just… whatever you ask  _ me _ , you have to be able to answer, too. It’s not fair for me to answer something then you clam up if I ask the same question. I won’t put myself on the line like that.”

Edward frowns. “How do you know I won’t just ask a question and refuse to answer it later myself?”

“Well asking something like  _ that  _ certainly doesn’t help,” I say with a grin. It falters when his expression doesn’t change. I sigh and glance down at my hands.

“Look, Edward… To be honest, I’ve kinda already put myself out on the line here. If I can’t trust you to have a balanced conversation with me, how can I possibly trust you with anything else?” I squeeze my eyes shut and force the words out of my mouth: “My family can’t stay here if I can’t trust you with what you know.”

“I know the feeling,” he mutters earnestly. “But there are things I can’t tell you for my own family’s safety.”

A humorless smirk tugs across my lips. “I guess that makes two of us.”

We pause the conversation, taking a moment to stare at each other. It amazes me just how similar our situations are. The details are surely different, but the overlap is still there. He sees that too.

“It seems we’re at an impasse then.”

“Not necessarily,” I argue. “An impasse suggests there’s no way to move forward.”

“How can we move forward when neither of us can say anything?” he asks raising a brow.

I shrug. “Maybe that’s the beauty of it… You can’t say anything, and neither can I. Nothing could just remain… as nothing.”

He regards me skeptically. “What are you suggesting?”

“You know what you think you know about me,” I say softly, inching closer. He does the same, making my heart pick up speed. “I know what I think I know about you. Let’s just leave it at that. No questions, no prying, no talking about wrestling or chairs… Just a mutual, unspoken, unaware-awareness. That way both our families can stay out of trouble, nobody has to skip town, and we can all just go about our merry ways.”

He eyes (gold, honey, amber, beautiful) widen considerably.

“I need to stay here.” I glance down. “At least a little bit longer. It’s… complicated but… I’ll leave now if I have to but… I’d really rather not.”

“I know,” he says softly.

I frown and quirk a brow at him.

“I understand how you feel,” he corrects a little too smoothly.

I shake my head, brushing the comment aside. Showing him, and myself, it  _ is  _ possible for me to be intrigued by something  _ and  _ leave it alone.

“Do we have a deal?” I ask ignoring how my curiosity thrashes in protest.

Edward stares down at my outstretched hand. He looks up at me and spares Mr. Varner a quick glance. He leans in closer, allowing me an even better view of those impossible eyes of his, then speaks barely higher than a breath.

“Why did you start that fire?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words fly from my mouth before I even fully register what he says.

How does he— What makes him think  _ I  _ started the fire? My siblings I can understand, but him? He wasn’t even  _ in  _ here!

“Did you do it to get rid of my desk?” he asks in the same quiet, knowing voice.

How is he so sure that’s why I started the fire? How does he even know  _ I  _ started it? I never— We were careful when we talked about it! No one was ever close enough to hear us!  _ We  _ could barely hear us!

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say firmly, turning forward in my seat.

Shit, now what? How the hell does he know this stuff!? Shit, shit, shit, now we  _ really  _ need to leave.

I quickly start to gather my things. If he can’t agree to let it be, we have no choice. We’ve got to leave. Even if it means never seeing Mom again… It… It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to go. It’s what she’d want. It’s what’s right.

“Amethyst, stop.”

He puts a hand on my arm, halting me. My heart trills at the contact. I pull my hands into careful firsts, trying to keep my power contained, but I can feel it. Static surges around where our skin meets. It courses throughout my body; over and across my skin, through my bloodstream. This is dangerous. This is dangerous for so many reasons.

He starts to say something when the first bell suddenly shrills. I jolt in my seat at the sound. Electricity shoots down my arm and strikes Edward’s hand. His hand jumps into the air at the intense bite. My hand flies after his, grabbing him without thought.

“I’m so sorry, are you alright!? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I swear! I’m—” I freeze.

His palm is still as smooth and white as ever. My brows furrow. I turn his hand over, checking both sides. There’s no burn. No blackened skin. No redness. I trace my thumb over his palm. There’s not even a speck of irritation.

I feel Edward watching me and look up. He takes his hands and folds them delicately over my own like he’s trying not to frighten me. The buzzing in my skin picks back up again.

My eyes jump down to our hands and then back up at him. Has he lost his mind? There’s no way he doesn’t feel the burning, buzzing, prickling spike of energy on his skin. There’s no way he doesn’t know this is dangerous. Who in their right mind would willingly hold a lightning rod right after being struck? Better yet… who, or what, could withstand the strikes?

“Just answer me one thing. One thing and I’ll agree to your proposal. No more questions after that. We’ll leave it all alone.”

I stare at him carefully then slowly nod.

“ _ Why?  _ Why did you do all that? The fire, the desk, your… what you did in the hall. I don’t understand any of it. Why would you do all that for me? You have yourself and your family to worry about. Why bother helping someone you don’t even know?”

“You mean other than the fact that I’m an idiot?” He gives me a look. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Sort of.

With a huff, I ponder how to answer him. It’s not like I can just blame my dopey actions on this stupid crush. As far as I’m aware, admitting you have a crush on someone only ends one of two ways. Either you start dating – which isn’t going to happen – or things get so awkward it’s physically painful to be in the same room together. Which is also far from ideal.

Not to mention, blaming it all on my crush wouldn’t be entirely truthful. Would I have done the same thing if I didn’t have a crush on him? I honestly don’t know. But I like to think I would have. After all, my actions go beyond just finding the guy pretty.

“It’s my fault my family has to move around so much,” I confess. “I slip up or things… start going wrong… We’ve had to drop everything and run so many times… It feels like we’ve been running my whole life and it…” I sigh. “It  _ sucks _ . It’s  _ exhausting _ . And it takes such a huge toll on everyone and I… hate it. So if I can help somebody else avoid all that trouble, why wouldn’t I?”

Edward doesn’t say anything. My cheeks start to burn and I glance away. I look at his hands and give them a soft squeeze.

“Not to mention… You’re a kind soul, Edward. You gave me a second chance after I messed up. No one else has ever done that for me… I had to return the favor. It would’ve been wrong of me not to.”

His face is nearly thunderstruck. It makes me giggle. He turns his head, looking up like someone called his name. I follow his line of sight as a group of our classmates quickly turn from us and hurry to their seats. The buzzing chill of Edward’s hands on mine, though anything but uncomfortable, becomes more obvious.

Ah. Right. Mr.  _ too good for anyone at Forks  _ holding the hands of Ms.  _ that flirt’s sister _ . That’s bound to catch a few looks.

Edward returns his attention to me as I carefully remove my hands from his.

“Now I have one for you,” I say quietly as the warning bell rings. “Do I…”

Looking down at my fingers, I start to wring them together. I’m not sure I actually want to know the answer but my curiosity is killing me. There’s so much I want to know. So much I’ll have to deny myself to make this work. I need something to hold me over _.  _ Otherwise, I’ll go mad.

I stop fidgeting and take a breath but can’t bring myself to look at him. This is the only question I can think of that won’t cause any trouble. Not for him, at least.

“Don’t I hurt you? Aren’t you afraid of me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. My shoulders start to cave and my mind runs a mile a minute. As odd and dangerous as I am, it isn’t surprising he feels that way. It’s exactly what he  _ should  _ be feeling. But Edward is a kind person. I know that much. There’s no way he would come right out and say something so cruel to my face.

Then Edward bursts into laughter. It isn’t a loud, hearty roar like Grizzly. It’s softer. A warm, gentle sound that envelopes my mind like satin and, somehow, reminds me of a purr.

Me and the rest of the class can only stare as he makes the handsome sound. Some part of me is in awe. This Edward contrasts profoundly with the dark, hostile boy who nearly tore his desk apart just a few days ago.

The laughter is gone as fast as it came. Already, I want to hear it again.

Edward shakes his head. “Not at all, Amethyst,” he says grinning. “Not at all.”

I stare at him completely flabbergasted. His lips twitch and shoulders shake with a few silent chuckles.

“It’s funny how we seem to keep switching places,” he says softly, smiling to himself.

I nod mechanically. Couldn’t have said it better myself. I shake myself out of my stupor and offer out my hand again. He takes it with ease.

“No questions, no prying, and nothing about wrestling chairs.”

“An unaware awareness,” he echoes.

We shake on it, smiling gaily at each other.

* * *

 

“Edward Cullen’s  _ hand!?” _

Jessica stares at me, mouth agape and hands out like she’s waiting for me to hand her something. I almost hand her my schoolbag.

“Huh?”

“ _ Edward Cullen’s hand!?”  _ she shrills again, shaking her fists. “You were holding his  _ hand in class _ !?”

I spare a glance at Angela, who’s been walking beside me this whole time. She looks just as surprised as I am that Jessica already knows.

“Who told you that?”

“Uh, who  _ hasn’t  _ told me about that?” she scoffs. She points to the desk beside her. “Sit.”

A small surge of static runs between my fingers. “Excuse me, I’m not a dog. And that’s Angela’s seat.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Angela says quickly. She hurries to my usual chair and sits down.

I frown at her.

With a loud huff, I march over to the seat and slouch down. Arms crossed, I openly glare at Jessica while she stares expectantly.

“ _ Well?”  _

“Well,  _ what?” _

“What happened?”

“You’ve already heard, apparently.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me. Then she pauses a second and says, “C’mon, Am. We’re friends, aren’t we?” She pouts on cue. “Friends are supposed to tell each other everything.”

I roll my eyes with such gusto my head ends up rolling as well. “Spreading rumors is a Forks High national pastime. Whatever you heard is probably more interesting than what actually happened anyway.”

_ “Please?”  _ She pouts again. When she sees it isn’t working she huffs and starts to whine. “At least tell me if they’re true or not?”

“Well, that depends,” I say sitting up, curious myself. “What are the rumors?”

Jessica beams, probably thinking I’ve given in, then leans in closer. “They say you and Edward were whispering together and holding hands before first period and giggling. And that he switched seats to be closer to you. Everyone’s been saying you’re dating.”

I raise a brow at her, not sure whether to believe that last bit. “Jess,  _ you’re  _ the one who told me Edward doesn’t date, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was  _ before _ .”

There’s that word again.  _ Before _ . Before what exactly? Before I showed up and got stuck in his stupid, beautiful, color-changing, not-Norm eyes?

“Angela,” she turns on the quiet girl, “was she or was she not whispering and holding hands with Edward before class?”

Angela stares like a deer in headlights. She fidgets nervously and glances at my expressionless face. Perhaps looking for a clue for how I want her to respond. I don’t give her any.

“Well… I didn’t get there until the bell rang so I don’t really know…” She glances sheepishly my way. Again, I give her nothing to work with. “Um, but they did  _ shake  _ hands?”

Jessica looks to me. I nod. She deflates a little and pulls a face.

“You shook hands? That’s it?”

I give her a simple smile, letting her come to her own conclusions.

“And you’re not dating?” Her voice goes up a little bit as she asks. Like she’s torn between wanting me to date him for the gossip and not wanting me to date him out of spite.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say here, Jess. You told me Edward doesn’t date and I told you I don’t date either.”

“But you said it yourself that he was hot!”

“ _ You  _ said he was hot,” I say pointing. “ _ I  _ said… I don’t remember what I said exactly. He’s definitely handsome and all, but neither of us date. Ergo, we cannot be dating.”

Jess huffs and faces forward in her seat. She puts her chin in her hands and pouts.

I follow her lead and look to the front of the room as well. A small, victorious smile curls onto my lips.

“So what were you shaking hands and laughing for?”

My smile falters as I turn in my seat to face Lauren. Unlike usual, her green eyes are curious and attentive. Jessica immediately pops out of her funk.

“Yeah, and did he really switch seats to sit next to you?” she asks.

Oh, just kill me now.

I quickly latch onto the lesser question and ready my trump card.

“Well, yeah, but I mean… It was only  _ one  _ seat. If  _ Dale  _ likes a girl, he’ll move across the entire  _ room  _ to sit next to her. That or  _ always  _ try to eat lunch with them.” I make a pondering face. “Actually… he’s kind of been sitting at our table quite a bit now that I think about it. He usually sits with the girls he finds prettiest in the school …”

I pause purposefully, then glance quickly at all three of them. Lauren and Jessica’s eyes start sparkling. Angela turns a bright red. I hum curiously, loud enough for them to hear me, then turn forward in my seat, looking thoughtful.

There’s a pair of high pitched squeals to my side. I quickly hide my smirk as Mr. Mason glances in the direction of our little group.

The bell eventually rings and the giddy girls graciously walk me to Mr. Banner’s room. Angela leaves me with the same kind wave as always but Lauren  _ smiles  _ and waves rather than ignore me. Jessica straight up  _ hugs me _ . I stare after them and pinch my cheek.

As I watch them go, Alice turns the corner with Edward at her side. They walk to the space between Building 3 and 4. Edward hunches over slightly as he mumbles to his petite sister. His eyes flash over her head and meet mine. They’re still gold.

I pinch myself once more for good measure.

“Hey, Amethyst,” Tyler says walking up to me with Kyle at his side.

“What, no horde of girls doing your brother’s bidding today?” Kyle asks shielding his eyes from the nonexistent sun as he scans the horizon.

“Not  _ yet, _ ” I grumble rubbing my cheek.

“What happened?” Tyler asks as we enter the classroom.

“Lauren  _ smiled  _ at me. And then Jessica  _ hugged  _ me.”

The boys make faces at me.

“So?”

“Isn’t that normal?”

I stare at them. I pinch my cheek one more time. They make faces again and share a glance.

“Today’s been a little off for me,” I confess.

“Does you and Cullen dating have anything to do with it?”

I stumble over my own two feet, nearly tripping with how fast I spin to face them. “Not you two, too!”

“So you  _ are?”  _ Tyler presses.

“Pinching isn’t working; I think I need to upgrade to slapping myself,” I grumble, dragging my hands down my face. “ _ No _ . Edward and I were only talking. I don’t know why everyone suddenly thinks we’re an item.”

“Mike said you two were holding hands,” Kyle says.

“Jessica  _ hugged  _ me. Am I dating her too, or is that more of a getting married kind of thing?”

“So you’re not dating Cullen?” Tyler asks again.

I roll my eyes, half wishing I could use the Dale card on him. “Come on now. I just met the guy last week. Who dates a person after barely knowing them a week?”

Tyler slings an arm over my shoulder and smirks. “Baby, I can do  _ a lot  _ with a girl in just one week.”

My mouth drops in surprise and I start sputtering nonsense.

“There you are, Amethyst!” Alice dances down the aisle toward me. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

I reach out to her and she easily pulls me away from the boys. She starts going on and on about some cute clothes she bought online over the weekend, telling me all sorts of things about the color and cut. I nod along eagerly, as though my life depended upon this information.

From the corner of my eye, I watch Tyler and Kyle stare at us for a second. They grumble something about girls being weird before moving towards their table at the back of the room.

I sigh softly as they leave. “Thanks, Alice.”

She smiles and nods. She continues to talk fashion, only slightly less serious than before, until Mr. Banner starts his lesson.

* * *

 

The rate with which rumors get thrown around this school is truly astounding. The truth seems to plod along at a sloth-like pace in comparison.

I was very careful in Gym. Perhaps too careful. Perhaps the small, impersonal smile I sent in Edward’s direction was  _ too  _ small. Too guilty. Like someone trying to hide the truth rather than kill a rumor. It doesn’t help that a sizable part of me would  _ like  _ the rumor to be true. Or maybe even just remotely possible. But it’s not.

Anyway, my plan for gym had been to stand on the sidelines with Lauren and ignore the rest of the world (Edward included) until the bell rang. Instead, Coach Clapp swapped our teams around, leaving me and Edward on the same one. The conspicuous glances our classmates keep sending us is torture. Flat as I try to keep my expression, I can’t stop the red-hot blush on my cheeks.

Once all is said and done, I’ve lost Lauren and Samantha to different teams. Alice is on the same one as Kyle now, but they’re not with me either. The only person I know on my new team besides Edward is Zac.

“Aren’t you gonna go stand by your boyfriend?” he asks with a mean sort of grin as we start spreading out for the first game.

I groan and throw my head back, answering loud enough for the people around us to hear. “For the love of—! Edward and I aren’t dating! I just met him  _ last week!  _ Does that mean nothing to you people!?”

Zac laughs then pats me on the shoulder. “No need to get so defensive, Am. Only asking cuz of what I heard.”

“Defensive? No. Annoyed that people keep ignoring or undermining what I say in favor of secondhand gossip? Yes!”

“Yeah, I figured he wasn’t your type anyway.”

“I don’t  _ have  _ a type.” I huff and try to fight back another blush by running head first towards the ball.

At lunch, I don’t even notice when Dale walks into the room. One second I’m trying to just focus on my damn pizza and not the people staring at me. The next, Dale forces himself into my head so quickly I nearly  _ drop  _ my pizza.

_ What the hell, you ass-hat!? You nearly made me— _

_ IS IT TRUE?!  _ He screams. The thought is so painfully loud I wince and put a hand to my head.

Someone outside asks if I’m okay. I grunt in response and set my pizza down for safe keeping.

_ Is what true? Edward and me dating? _

_ YES! _

_ No! Of course we’re not, stupid!  _ Even as I think it though, my cheeks start to flush. Part of me does wish I could date him but—

_ I HEARD THAT! _

I press my hands harder against my skull. Someone on the outside puts their hand on my shoulder and asks something. Another hand goes to my back and another to my forearm.

A warm, hazy feeling moves around my head — Fogger. The creature is more cautious than it’s ever been. I can’t even focus long enough to brush it aside.

_ STOP SCREAMING, YOU IDIOT!  _

_ Ow! _

_ Yeah, ‘ow’! So quit it! _

_ But— _

_ But nothing! Conversation over! Go near the Cullen table and I will tell everyone in this school about the Maddison Clark incident!  _

With that, I cut the connection and look up to find the table staring at me. I grumble some sort of excuse and go back to my food with a sour expression.

Jessica is sitting smack dab next to me. Probably because I’m the talk of the town today. It makes it harder to ignore her obnoxious sigh.

“He didn’t even come over to say  _ hi _ ,” she murmurs, looking longingly in my brother’s direction.

I roll my eyes, grateful he didn’t. Anything more out of him and I might’ve been sent to the principal’s office.

Dale takes a seat with a group of senior girls. Three of them share drama with Jess, Rosalie, and I, but I recognize the rest of them from his zombie hoard on Friday. He’s lamenting to them about something or other… Probably about how bad I treat him. I don’t know or care.

The lunch period eventually starts winding down. A few people are still sending me suspicious glances when they don’t think I’m looking. I peek up at the clock on the cafeteria wall, which still runs about four minutes too fast. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. My own  _ friends  _ keep eyeing me suspiciously. Though whether it’s because of the Edward thing or my little “headache” I can’t be sure.

Suddenly, a nearby chair scraps harshly across the floor. Turning my head to the sound, I watch a large boy march up to Dale’s table.

I nudge Jessica softly. “Who’s that guy?”

She glances briefly. “Ryan Smith, a senior. He plays on the basketball team and he’s dating Lilly Parker.”

“Lilly Parker?” The name rings a bell.

“Yeah, the redhead your brother’s sitting next to,” she says not even trying to hide her jealousy. “She’s a senior, too. She was on the cheer squad last year but she didn’t sign up this season. _ I  _ heard it was because of her mom's—”

“ _ Lilly  _ Parker?” I say again, trying to place the name.

The boy, Ryan, looms over Dale’s table. He glares at my brother as he speaks.

Jessica huffs. “Yes.  _ Lilly  _ Parker and her boyfriend  _ Ryan _ .” She keeps talking but I don’t listen.

Ryan jerks his finger at Lilly then at himself. His voice is getting loud enough for me to start hearing over the room’s regular chatter.

Dale glares and rises from his chair, a few inches taller than the boy but nowhere near as muscular.

“Lilly Parker and her boyfriend,” I mumble.

The boys get closer to each other, Dale practically burning with righteous fury. I squint at the scene in front of me then, without reason, turn towards the Cullen table. The whole family is standing, their lunches untouched, and making their way towards the door.

Alice glances in my direction and does a double take when she sees me staring. She pauses, eyeing me with a half nervous expression. There’s something I’m missing. Something on the very edge of my memory. I scrunch my brow in thought. It has something to do with Alice, Dale, and Lilly Parker’s boyfriend… Something Dale shouldn’t do. Something that could happen to him.

“Dale… and Lilly Parker’s,” my head slowly tilts to the side, “boyfriend…”

Alice’s eyes widen. The memory hits me and my eyes widen, too. I stare at her in shock. Then I’m out of my seat and running over to my brother. Jessica calls after me.

There’s hardly any space between the boys. It’s sheer luck and momentum that I get there in time to knock Ryan’s fist off course. Thanks to me, his knuckles fly past Dale’s face and completely miss his nose.

“Gentlemen,” I say forcing a grin as I wedge myself between them. “Let’s be civil and keep the bloodshed to a minimum, shall we?”

“I’m all for civility, Sunshine,” Dale growls trying to move forward. I have to keep my hands on Ryan’s chest to keep them apart. “But some people need help understanding they don’t  _ own  _ others.”

Ryan starts pushing against my hands. My arms shake as he presses hard against my restraint. 

“Hey, fuck you, man! Lilly’s  _ my  _ girlfriend. I don’t want her hanging out with some man-whore like you.”

“Lilly, for whatever reason, decided to let you be her boyfriend. She also decided to let me be her friend. You don’t have a say in that.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to be okay with you fucking my girlfriend?”

_ “Ryan!”  _ a girl shrieks. “I am  _ not _ — We’re just— I can’t  _ believe  _ you!”

“For the record, Lilly and I haven’t done anything. But even if we had, that wouldn’t be up to you,” Dale says almost sounding calm. But the rage is there. I can feel the hot swells bubbling up and seeping through my back like magma. My whole body is starting to burn with his fury.

My hands claw into fists to keep rogue surges contained but I don’t dare move them from Ryan’s chest. I try to channel the energy from my limbs into my back, hoping if I  _ do  _ shock someone, it’s Dale. Just enough to make him back off or shut up or crumble to the floor.

It doesn’t matter. As long as Ryan doesn’t feel the bite too, it doesn’t matter.

I grit my teeth, fighting back the electricity swimming through my blood and across my bones.

“Dale _.  _ Knock it off.  _ Now _ .”

“Yeah, Dale,” Ryan mocks. “Knock it off before your wittle sister gets mad.”

My eyes snap to his. He jerks back instinctually and not a moment too soon. I fiercely shove my hands under my arms as small flecks of lightning dance between my fingers.

Ryan’s eyes are almost bulging. On some level, he recognizes that what’s in front of him is not the same as him. Not human in the way he’s human. More powerful than him in ways his waking mind can’t fathom. But he ignores his subconscious and glares at me again.

Dale chuckles at the display. He starts to ruffle my hair. I feel – and hear – the static. He puts his other hand on my shoulder. He’s so proud of me. It pisses me off more.

“If there’s anyone in this school you should definitely not piss off, it’s one of my  _ widdle  _ sisters. They’ll turn you into dust  _ like that. _ ” He snaps his fingers.

I spin to glare at him. His hands are off me and up in the air in an instant. He takes a large step away from me but he’s still smiling. Still so proud of me for scaring the obnoxious Norm. I roll my eyes and turn back to Ryan taking a deep breath.

With some space between us, it’s easier to filter through my own thoughts and emotions. I’m not the one who’s angry. Annoyed and embarrassed for this ridiculous display of testosterone, but not angry.

“Listen, Ryan,” I say taking another deep breath. “My brother may be a flirtatious idiot but he knows where to draw the line. If you really have that big of an issue with your girlfriend hanging out with him, maybe you should talk about it with her in private rather than try to act all macho in front of a crowd.”

Ryan looks at me oddly. He wasn’t expecting something so calm to come out of me. But then he glares again and starts to move forward. A small hand appears on his shoulder and digs its nails into him. He winces loudly and jumps away.

“Take another step, jock,” Chris says with a sneer, “and I’ll snap your leg in half.”

Ryan stares at her, clutching his shoulder. He glances over at me, then to Dale.

Smugly, Dale softly snaps his fingers. His smirk radiates off him. I hear him say, “Like  _ that _ ,” though I’m not sure if it’s in our head or out loud.

“Fine. Whatever,” Ryan recedes. “Have fun with this loser, Lils,” he says to the redhead. “At least I don’t hide behind two little  _ girls _ .”

Chris scowls and takes a step closer to Ryan. “ _ Excuse you?”  _ she hisses. He jerks back like she’s already stabbed him.

“Chris,” I gently put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough.”

She turns her glare on me a moment, then scoffs and folds her arms. Ryan takes one more look at the three of us, then Lilly, and then behind us. He grumbles something then stalks off in the other direction still clutching his shoulder.

Chris shakes her head. “Next time, just let him get punched,” she says returning to her own table. “His stupid ego needs it.”

I hum in agreement, sending the culprit an annoyed look. He just grins.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue, Sunshine,” he says ruffling my hair.

He’s so stinkin’ happy it makes me want to puke. You mess with one Dagwood, you mess with us all. That’s how this family works and he loves it.

“Yeah, well,” I slap his hand away and punch him in the arm, “I just didn’t want to deal with you whining about a bloody nose or whatever.”

“Love you too, sister mine,” he says rubbing his arm.

He turns back to his table and sheepishly starts to apologize to Lilly, who forgives him quickly. All the girls at the table start to praise his bravery (stupidity) and chivalry. Stupid wannabe Gryffindor. Dale chuckles.

I slip away from the scene, sighing softly, then pause. Most of the Cullens are watching me from beside the door. Their stares are unsettling, to say the least.

Alice is still holding her tray. She looks like she hasn’t moved at all since I bolted from my chair. Edward is a little further from the rest of them like he had been walking towards the commotion before stopping halfway. I give them an awkward grin and a small wave before quickly turning my head.

Just as I reach my seat, the thick crackling sound of someone picking up a receiver echoes through the cafeteria. The bell rings as the person on the intercom starts to say a student’s name. I grab my things as the woman clears her throat and repeats herself.

“Amethyst Dagwood to the front office. Amethyst—” there’s a loud sound of someone smashing their fist against a table and nearly breaking it. My sister’s glare burns into the back of my head “—Dagwood to the front office.” The receiver gets put down, creating another crackling noise, before the ancient system is shut off.

I glance cautiously in Chris’s direction. She’s beyond pissed. My hands shoot up innocently as I shake my head. I haven’t done anything to warrant being called to the office today. Not to my knowledge at least.

Chris sends me one more scathing, suspicious look then starts gathering her things.

“What did you do?” Jessica asks walking up to me.

“Nothing I’m aware of. Maybe Mr. Greene heard the gossip and wants to know if Edward and I are dating, too.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever. I expect a full report of what happened between you and Ryan when you get to Drama.”

I hum before heading to the front office. The same redheaded woman from my first day, Ms. Cope, glances up as I enter the warm room. She smiles kindly at me.

“You’ve got a phone call, dear, from your brother,” she says picking up the phone. “Mr. Dagwood?” she says into it. “Yes, she’s here now… You’re welcome.” She offers it to me.

The cord is just long enough to reach over the front counter. I put the phone to my ear and the woman turns to the computer in front of her.

“Cy? What’s going on?”

Ms. Cope glances in my direction at the urgency of my voice then quickly goes back to her computer. So much for subtlety.

“Hey, Amby. Nothing serious, calm down.” My shoulders immediately relax at his deep, easygoing tone. “Just reminding you I’m picking you guys up straight after school.”

“You are? What about work?”

There’s a slight pause. “I just left?”

“You did? Why?”

“Because? I told you last night… er… did you forget? I’m going to try and get the house today, remember?”

“Oh.” I smack my head.

That’s right. Cy had told me late yesterday that he was getting out of work early to do that. He told me in private, so of course the other two hadn’t brought it up. It doesn’t do any good getting their hopes up when his credit score is less than stellar. 

“Right. I guess I did forget, sorry.”

“It’s fine. I also got a call from one of those places I dropped off your résumé. The diner? The owner asked if you’d be willing to have an interview today.”

“Alright. What time is that at?”

“I said I had to check if you had any after school things going on today.”

I frown in confusion. “What do you mean? You know I don’t do after school stuff.”

“No, I know. I just wanted to make sure you were in an okay headspace.”

My scowl deepens. I glare at the receiver, hoping Cypress can somehow see me through the old scuffed-up phone.

Ms. Cope turns in her chair to search through her desk for something, briefly peeking up at me as she does so.

“You know,” he continues, mumbling, “since you didn’t sleep great last night and all…”

“I’m fine, Cy,” I sigh. “Please call them back and tell them today is fine.”

“Will do.” In my mind, I can see him nodding once. We say our goodbyes and I hand the phone back to the eavesdropping woman. She writes me a note to excuse my tardiness and I thank her before heading out.

It takes me a second to remember Dale’s 5th-period class, but I soon start heading towards the math building. I don’t know exactly which room he’s in so I just glance into each open doorway and feel around for our connection. Once I find it, I latch on and quickly tell him to get his butt to the front of the school as soon as he can after 6th period. He tries to ask why but I cut the conversation before my mind accidentally wanders and gets him excited.

After that, I go straight to the gym. Chris spots me immediately. She scowls and storms over, stopping in front of me with her arms crossed.

“Relax, kiddo,” I say with a half grin, “it was just a call from Cy.”

“What did he want?”

“Just to tell everyone he’s going to be picking us up right after school. You won’t have time to make up your detention today.”

She frowns again. “Why?”

“I have an interview. See you then, okay?”

She nods and goes back to her game.

When I finally get to Drama class, Mrs. Taylors is in the middle of a Shakespearian-like monologue. I hold up my tardy slip to her and she motions to put it on her director’s chair, not missing a beat in her delivery.

Jessica is in the middle row pouting. There aren’t any open seats near her. I send her a halfhearted smile and she huffs.

A pair of hard eyes glare at me from the far back corner. The image of Rosalie’s rage resurfaces once more. This time, accompanied by the long, bloodied claws of the monsters from my dream. I shut my eyes and squeeze my fists tightly.

I try to be as quiet as I possibly can but the seat creaks under my weight. It sounds obnoxiously loud to me, but no one else seems to notice it. I turn very slowly to look at Rosalie. Even with such a dark expression, she’s still freakishly pretty.

“Would you like to talk about it?” I ask quietly.

She sets her stony glare forward. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“But you  _ are  _ worried.”

She snaps that same haunting, hate-filled glare my way. My heart rate skyrockets and I jump. I don’t fall out of my seat this time though, so that’s something.

“Don’t you dare act like you know what I’m thinking. Don’t you dare assume your situation is anything like mine.” There’s a low, growl-like sound to her voice.

I shake my head slowly. “I don’t. I’m sure it’s very different. But it’s your family… Anyone would be worried. That’s all I meant.” I pause, waiting for her expression to change. It doesn’t. “Edward told you about our deal, didn’t he?”

“Of course he did,” she says sharply.

“Are you alright with it?

“Does it matter?”

“Well… Yes.” My deal was with Edward but his  _ whole  _ family knows about me. That’s a heck of lot more than I can say about what my family knows about him. “I want you to know you can trust me to keep my end. And I want to know I can trust you to do the same.”

“ _ I  _ made no deal with you.”

I shrug. She waits for me to say something. I don't.

Eventually, her frown deepens and she glares down at her desk. “I don’t like it. I think you know too much as it is, and this  _ deal  _ of yours," she sneers, "is just going to get my family in trouble sooner or later.”

“I think you and your family know more about me than the other way around,” I say shaking my head.

“Oh, really?” she patronizes. “Then why did you go running over to your brother so suddenly?”

I blink. “When?”

“At lunch.”

“Oh.” A pause. “ _ Oh.  _ Well, he was being stupid and it looked like he was going to get into a fight. Anyone would’ve done the same thing.”

“You weren’t even looking at him. You were staring down  _ my  _ sister.”

“I wasn’t staring her down. Or didn’t mean to anyway. I was just thinking about what to do and happened to look her way.”

“Is that all?” she scoffs, clearly knowing better.

“Yes. That’s all. I’d say the same to anyone else who asked as well.”

“And in truth?”

“In truth…” I pause, thinking carefully about my answer. “In truth, I know nothing with certainty and I’m doing my best to keep it that way.”

Even as I say this, I can feel my curiosity tugging at what I already know about the Cullens. Trying to make connections and figure out more. I do my best to shut down that part of my brain by staring straight into the eyes of the woman who terrifies me more than just about anything.

Her eyes. Her eyes are gold now. My mouth pops open. I snap it shut quickly. Her glare intensifies, becoming suspicious.

They… Both hers  _ and  _ Edward's have changed but…  _ how?  _ How in the world is that possible? I didn’t expect it to be possible for anyone else to have that same brilliant eye color. Heck, it shouldn’t even be possible for Edward to have it in the first place! And yet here I am, staring into swirling pools of amber once again. 

I try to think back to Alice’s eyes. Were they still black and gold this morning, or had they changed as well? Am I losing my mind?

Rosalie’s newly honey colored eyes, darker than Edward’s, narrow sharply as if I just proved I can’t be trusted. Great. Now I’m even more of a threat. I sputter out the first that comes to mind.

“You think it would be better to kill me.”

I nearly smash my face into my desk. Where did  _ that  _ come from? God, I’m so stupid. Why the hell did I say that? Jesus fricking—

“I do.”

My eyes bulge at her honesty. Despite my terrible accusation — and her even more terrible acknowledgment — the suspicion in her eyes eases.

“I think you know too much,” she says again, then sighs, “but Carlisle would never allow it. Not to mention from what Alice says, you—” she stops herself. It takes her a moment to continue. “And, anyway, with what you did for that moron on Friday…”

She sighs once more. She glares at me again but it’s not nearly as powerful as before. It’s more frustrated than angry — a look I am  _ much  _ more comfortable with.

“I don’t like this deal. I don’t like leaving you to just know what you know and hope you don’t go prying. But I know what you are—” my heart drops “—to him.”

Her glare intensifies as my face falls. My thoughts halt as that glare sweeps over all of my features. She judges my imperfections, compares my static mousy mess of hair and mile-wide pores to her silky golden tresses and smooth, flawless skin. It’s not long before she dials it down. Her glare is replaced with glowing self-assurance. Whatever she sees in me cannot compare to what she sees in herself.

“Well,” she reconsiders, “ _ might  _ be. More or less, anyway. I don’t see how a… person like you could possibly be the one he would choose. Regardless,” she continues so quickly and elegantly there’s barely enough time for my blood to start boiling, “if I hurt you now, it would only end up hurting myself and my family.”

I am utterly lost. And pissed. And confused. And fucking pissed.

When she said she knew what I am, my mind instantly jumped to her realizing I’m an Essence. But then the rest of her sentence threw me off.

What I am  _ to him?  _ To Edward? Nothing. I can’t possibly be anything to him. For his own good, and mine, I am nothing. End of story.

And what the hell was with that look? Rosalie is undoubtedly prettier than me and every other girl here, but that sure as shit doesn’t make her  _ better  _ than me.

I am a mother fucking Essence. Possible Talents or no, she is  _ nothing  _ compared to me.

Damn right if she tried to hurt me now she’d get hurt. But not for whatever reasons she’s thinking of. I could snap my fingers and set her hair aflame. I could glare and watch her body thrash with convulsions. I could spit in her eye and have it burn out of her skull.

At that thought, an old, hazy memory resurfaces. The only point of clarity is a small boy’s face. He clutches his eye, shrieking in pain as the adults rush to his aid. Someone snatches me into the air and we’re running. Running like we always do. The poor boy’s face is plastered across the news for weeks. Each new picture showing the angry, broken, burning skin spreading further beyond the patch over his empty eye socket.

I shiver violently and shake my head, digging my nails into my skin.

No _.  _ None of that. Never again.

“Now… Now I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say softly. “I’m nothing special. Just some… weird nobody trying to keep her head down.”

“ _ Good _ ,” Rosalie scorns, satisfied as she turns forward. “Keep it that way.”

* * *

 

I shut my locker with a sigh. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this interview. It’s only Monday afternoon and already I’m wishing for Death’s sweet embrace. Maybe Cy was on to something. Maybe an interview today isn't such a good idea. My mind’s not in the right place to come up with a million reasonable lies on the spot and deliver them just right.

Rubbing my face, I make an annoyed sound. Why does life have to be so difficult? Why can’t everything just be hunky-dory and wonderful like in Disney movies?

“Amethyst?”

I sigh, dropping my hands, and greet Edward lamely. He’s got a guilty look on his pretty face.

“Uh oh,” I tease. Just seeing him makes me smile. “What’d you do?”

He frowns and glances to the floor, making him look even more guilty. I bite my lip to keep from giggling.

_ Ugh _ . Giggling. At a boy. Dale would be ecstatic.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Oh.” I make a face at him. “What for? You haven’t done anything wrong… Have you?”

He shakes his head. “Not intentionally. But you and I have been the focus of the school today and...”

I hum in agreement as a pair of girls glace our way, then start whispering.

“Well, you don’t have to apologize for that,” I say. “It’s a little annoying but it isn’t all that bad. I’m sure they’ll find something else to talk about tomorrow. In fact, I’m surprised no one’s talking about that whole fiasco at lunch.”

“They are—”

“Of course they are,” I grumble.

“—but that isn’t what I wanted to apologize for. Rosalie…” He pauses for a brief a moment, collecting his words. “She’d heard the rumors as well, and once I told her about our... deal,” the word comes out in a strange mix of strain and elation, “she was more upset about it than I imagined she’d be. It… left me thinking she might say something that would leave you with a poor impression of us. So I apologize for any unpleasant conversation the two of you might have had during class.”

I quirk a brow towards him. “So, wait, you want to apologize for something rude you  _ think  _ your sister  _ might  _ have maybe, possibly,  _ perchance  _ said to me?”

“When you say it like that it sounds—”

“Silly? Unnecessary? Good, because it is. You have nothing to apologize for, Edward. It’s all fine.”

He frowns, confusion pulling at his brow. “Are you sure? I thought… I was sure Rosalie would say something to upset you…”

Only, he doesn’t just sound  _ ‘sure’ _ . He sounds as if he’d been sitting right next to us, watching the whole conversation unfold.

I glace skeptically in his direction. Is that sort of thing even possible? Maybe astral projection… but he’s a bit young to be able to do that at the drop of a hat. Even if he could, I’m sure his teacher would’ve noticed him ‘meditating’ in the middle of class and snapped him out of it. And, again, Chris said they weren’t witches so—

No, no, no. I shake my head and keep walking. I’m being ridiculous. He probably just knows his sister very well. I could be just as sure about Chris doing the same thing if I knew she was angry enough. This is nothing to get curious over — which I’m not supposed to be doing anyway.

“Is something the matter, Amethyst?” he asks warmly.

My head automatically turns to the sound. The combination of honey dripping from his voice, the charm of his smile, and the glittering warmth of his eyes makes my heart stumble.

There’s a moment of weakness. A moment where I can do nothing but bask in the tender, fluttering feeling in my chest. But it’s only a moment. I shake my head harshly, forcing myself to glare at the ground as I continue walking.

“Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“ _ That _ ,” I say squishing my eyes shut and pressing my nails into my palms to fight off his bewitchment. “It irritates me when you talk to me like that.”

“It does?” he chimes in surprise.

“Yes. It reminds me of my brother. So don’t do it.”

“Like Dale?”

I nod as we reach the lockers by the Front Office, the spot my siblings and I usually meet after school. I frown and glance around. An abnormally large group of students is still hanging around the parking lot. Most of them are crowded around a grassy area near the forest edge. But my siblings aren’t with them.

“How do I remind you of Dale?” Edward asks, watching crane my neck to try and spot Bean Pole or the Tiny Hulk.

“He does the same thing when he’s trying to sidetrack girls from something,” I tell him honestly. “He, like, tries to dazzle them. Make them swoon and forget all about everything but himself. It annoys me that you think I’m just as easy to fool.”

There’s a pause. “I don’t think you’re easy to fool.”

I stop and give him a disbelieving look. He meets my stare genuinely. But how genuine can someone be when their eyes change color on a weekly basis? A humored smirk tugs at my lips.

“Uh huh. Sure, Edward. You were totally trying to dazzle me because you  _ didn’t  _ think it would work. Mhm. Yup. Because that’s  _ definitely  _ why people do things. Indubitably.”

He looks down and puts his hands in his pocket. Despite the guilt hanging in the back of his eyes, there’s also a twitch of a smile. I point it out.

“See?  _ See?  _ You’re smiling. You are insurmountably guilty, sir.”

He turns away from me but not fast enough to hide an actual smile blooming across his features.

“Caught in the act!  _ And see?  _ You’re even laughing at me now! _ Laughing!”  _ I say nearly laughing myself. “The audacity!”

He glances back at me, trying to fight down a grin as his shoulders start to shake. I poke his chest between my words, purposefully ignoring how rock solid he is.

“Guilty. As. Charged.  _ Sir _ .”

He lets out a few pearls of laughter, the sound somehow reverberating in my chest and warming every inch of me. He brings up a hand to catch mine but I move mine quickly. I dramatically place it over my heart while throwing my nose in the air.

“I cannot believe I’m in the presence of such a vandal!”

He chuckles, then softly clears his throat. A lopsided smile falls into place. It nearly makes me break character.

“Would you allow me to apologize for this crime, madam?” he asks.

Unable to help myself, a giggle slips past my façade. His eyes almost seem to brighten at the sound. I quickly clear my throat and keep going.

“Only if you must.” I start looking around again. “Though, I’d be more inclined to forgive you if you could help me find my brother and sister?”

“As a matter of fact,” Edward throws a glance across the parking lot, landing on the large crowd of students, “I think I saw Dale over there trying to start some kind of mock fight.”

“What? With who?” I ask getting on my tip-toes. “Ah  _ ha!”  _ I exclaim once I catch sight of Goldilocks’s hair.

I turn and give Edward a small curtsey. “Thank you, Edward, dearest. All is forgiven now. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

I throw him a wave as I hurry out onto the blacktopped concrete. It’s easier to move along the rows of cars than try and force myself through the crowd my brother has formed. The rear of the Bronco comes into view.

When I reach it, Chris is leaning against the passenger door with her arms crossed. Past her, on the grassy area between the lot and the forest, Dale and Cy are circling each other like vultures. Cy throws a punch, grinning, and Dale dodges it with a laugh.

“C’mon, old man, you can do better than that!” he taunts.

Cy, much broader than Dale, smirks then charges him. Dale screams purposefully – it isn’t as strikingly high-pitched as his actual screams – and narrowly dodges our elder brother. The crowd they’ve gathered gasps and cheers at all the right cues.

I chuckle at the sight. It isn’t often the two fight playfully. Chris hears the sound and glances back at me.

“There you are,” she says. “Can you make them stop? I’m dying of embarrassment.”

“Would you like me to go over there and pull them by the ears?”

She groans. “That’d be even worse!”

I chuckle again then put two fingers to my mouth and let out a high whistle. Cy and Dale perk up at the sound. Dale takes the momentary distraction to shove Cy and run over to me. Cy, much sturdier than Dale seems to realize, is right on his heels.

“Hey there, Sunshi—”

Cypress nabs him in a headlock and starts grinding his knuckles across Dale’s head. Dale screams bloody murder in a high-pitched shriek. Not because it hurts, which it does, but because Cy’s destroying his hair. I laugh until Dale forces himself free and starts swinging his fists for real.

“Alright, alright,” I say moving between them. “Knock it off, you two. Don’t we have something to be doing?”

“Do we?” Dale grumbles, trying to smooth his hair. “No one ever told me what was going on.” He glares at me. I ignore him.

“Calm down, Dale,” Chris mumbles opening the car door. “It’s just an interview, for fuck’s sake.”

“Did  _ she  _ just tell  _ me  _ to calm down?” he whispers incredulously.

“Yes, brother mine. She did. Would you like me to tell her you said that or can I ride shotgun?”

He gives me a deadened stare. “You are a horrible person.”

He climbs in back with her and I throw my fists up in victory before stealing the front seat. Chris gives us a weird look and rolls her eyes.

“Well…” Cy mutters sheepishly as he starts the car. “It’s not  _ just  _ Am’s interview. We’ve also got to pack up everything at the motel.”

“You got the house?!” I blurt.

Cypress smiles and nods, causing a commotion in the backseat. Screams of excitement and shouts of betrayal are forced into our ears as Cy maneuvers through the parking lot. They only start forming actual sentences when we hit the road.

“How long are we staying?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, what’s the lease? The usual three?”

Cy rubs the back of his head. “No. The owners looked pretty uncomfortable when I said a full year’s lease was too long. They barely wanted to go down to a six month one, so I didn’t push it.”

“Six months, huh?” Dale playfully kicks the back of my seat. “Think you can handle yourself that long, Sunshine?”

Normally, I would scoff, roll my eyes, and make some jib about six months being no big deal or ask if he could handle  _ himself  _ that long. We stayed almost an entire year in southern California. Long stays were doable, just not the norm.

This time though, we’re already off to a rough start. They all think I’ve already messed up once. Which I have just… not how they think. Cy and Chris think I accidentally started a fire but Dale knows I did it to cover something else up.

Which of course brings me to the issue of the Cullen family. Six months of Rosalie sending me death glares. Six months of curbing my curiosity…  _ Ugh _ . I can feel the strain of our deal already.

It kills me to know that I  _ can’t  _ know what’s going on with that family. They’re so…  _ odd _ . Different. I want to know more about them. What they are and how they know the things they know and do the things they do without being witches.

“ _ Am _ ,” Dale warns in a half-serious tone, “didn’t we already talk about that?”

A small spike of adrenaline starts to swim through my veins. My thoughts start to spiral. Edward, the Cullens, our secret, our trade, our deal. They’re barely coherent enough for me to make sense of them, let alone Dale.

Regardless, his curiosity peeks at my response. He wonders what in the world I’m going on about.  _ He  _ was talking about the Cullens not being Norms or witches like Chris said. About how we came to the conclusion that avoiding the Cullens was the best idea.

Well, how  _ some of us  _ concluded that.

Dale gets very smug all of a sudden, deciding that I’m on the same page as him regarding the Cullens. That despite the fact they’re not Norms – which he apparently was aware of on some level from the moment he first walked up to Rosalie – we have no reason to keep our distance from them.

Rather, with my once-in-a-lifetime crush on the youngest of their little clan, keeping our distance is a ridiculous waste of an opportunity. The opportunity to experience a type of happiness I’ve never allowed myself: to understand how lovely another human being can be, to love and be loved—

I nearly gag. He’s such a romantic it makes me sick. Just crushing on Edward is enough; I don’t need the added stress and strain of the rest of that nonsense.

Dale ignores my snide attitude. Instead, he focuses on the wonderful gift given to us by Fate. I roll my eyes and scoff.

Six months of being curious about the Cullens means six months to fall head over heels for Edward. My curiosity is infamously insatiable after all. Dale muses that by telling me to  _ avoid  _ the Cullens, telling me  _ not  _ to look into their oddities, Chris has put me on a one-way track to do just that. He think's  her warning is the reason I’m trying to withhold my curiosity in the first place. A good chunk of him isn’t surprised though; I  _ am  _ attracted to the dangerous and forbidden after all.

I glare at him through the side-view mirror. That is absolutely  _ not  _ what I’m attracted to. Since we were young, we’ve done everything possible to keep me safe from ‘the dangerous and forbidden’.

He believes that’s all the more reason to be attracted to it.

I roll my eyes. His logic is absurd. And even if I were, Edward is hardly what I’d call dangerous and forbidden. Then again, the terrifying, deadly look he gave me Friday morning and his superhuman strength could definitely be called… concerning.

“It’ll be fine, Dale,” Cypress says bringing us back into the moment, and not a second too soon.

“Yeah, Dale. It’ll be fine,” I echo. “So shut up.”

Chris scoffs again. “This family is all kinds of fucked up.”

I’m not entirely sure what she’s talking about but I nevertheless agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you liked or disliked in this chapter or how I can improve the story overall. 
> 
> This was another super long one. 31 pages this time! Not bad, eh?


	7. Cookie Monster

Despite everything, I manage to play my part well enough to get the job.

My boss, Debby Debus, is surprised at how fast I pick up things. According to the résumé she’s seen, this is only my second job. My first was working at another restaurant until we moved. The résumés I sent to Newman’s Outfitters and the gas station said similar things about working in retail. This is actually the third restaurant I’ve worked at and seventh job in general. Not that anyone’s keeping track.

After realizing I’ve already got the basics down, she has me taking patrons’ orders, delivering food, and even doing a bit on the cash register. Miss Debby is an older woman with a warm round face who insists I call her by her first name. When Cypress comes to pick me up, she tells him she’s “pleased as punch” with me and he smiles.

On the drive home, he and I compare the distances between the house, the school, and the diner. We suspect it will be a 12 to 15-minute walk from school to the diner and about 30 minutes from the diner to the house.

“Maybe I’ll just come and get you after work…”

“It’s not _that_ far, Cy.”

“No, I know. It’s just… That’s a long time for you to be alone at night.”

I huff. He glances at me briefly but I don’t argue with him. We both know he’s right.

Turning onto Sherwood Ave, the space between houses starts growing. Squinting through the dark, I try to assess the ones we fly by. A few are large and stately with wide, treeless spaces. But others are rather small, a bit run down, closer together, and encircled by the forest.

We drive a good way around the Robin Hood Loop before reaching Nottingham Way, a short road with only two streetlights. They’re too far apart and too dim to show much of the neighborhood, but from what can be seen, all the houses are fairly spread out. Each one is a comfortable size if not a little on the small side.

We pull into a squat driveway just big enough for the bronco. It’s too dark to see many details but it’s definitely the same house from online. The light shining on the porch shows the yellowish paint peeling, cobwebs hanging in what few dry nooks and crannies there are, and rainwater sloshing over the sides of the rusting gutters. One of the wooden poles on the porch had been replaced at some point and never painted to match the others. The mailbox by the door and the porch swing have been somewhat-freshly repainted, making them look immaculate compared to the rest of the exterior.

Light shines out from inside the house. The door and all the windows are open letting the familiar scent of sage into the night air. Our sleeping bags, duffle bags, and the rest of our belongings are still out on the porch waiting to be brought in. Honestly, with how much we own, it looks more like we’re here to house-sit than move in.

“It should be fine to start moving things inside,” Cy mumbles, picking up a few stray bags of food. He wipes his work boots on the decrepit welcome mat, nearly tearing it apart each time his foot scrapes across it. “They were almost done clearing the house when I left.”

“Oh, please,” Dale chides, turning a corner with a shiny new broom. “You wouldn’t know a smudged house from a demonic castle if the demons tried to bite you on the butt.”

Cy glares at him but continues to the kitchen. I start to follow him but stop and stare at the furniture in the dining area.

It’s a dining set. An actual wooden dining set with enough seats for all of us and then some. It’s much too big for the space. Very grandiose with lots of chunky swirls and unnecessary detail along the legs. Time has left stains, scratches, and scuffs here and there but I don’t care. I love it. I can’t even remember the last time we had a proper table that wasn’t made of plastic or surrounded by mismatched chairs.

“Where’d we get that?” I ask.

“The people who own the house left it here,” Cy says. “They said they’d come to get all their leftover furniture this weekend and that we could move in after, but I said they could leave it if they wanted since we don’t have much of—”

“ _Any_ of our own,” Dale cuts in.

Cy ignores him and takes the small box I carried in into his own hands. “It made the down payment and rent cost a little more, but they said we could start moving in right away. And now we’ve got a dining set, a couch, a coffee table, a bed in one of the rooms, and a few other things. Money’s going to be even tighter for a while, but I thought it was a fair deal.”

“Good thing I got a job then,” I tease.

He smiles then lets out a soft breath, his eyes heavy with bitterness and guilt. They’re the same shade of green as mine but with little brown flecks instead of silver cracks. He reminds me of a tree: tall, strong, and sturdy. But even the strongest trees can only take so much weight.

“You’re okay with all this old stuff?” I ask quickly. Cy glances down at his hands. He smiles but it’s tired and doesn’t ease my worries.

“If we bothered furnishing this place ourselves, all that stuff would be old and used, too,” he says. “Besides,” he heads back to the kitchen, “it’s you and Chrissy who got the short end of the stick this time.”

“What do you—”

A small avalanche crashes above us making the ceiling shake. Chris’s swearing accompanies it.

Dale snickers. The attic was an absolute train wreck the last time he saw it and all he’s heard so far from up there is Chris’s cursing and things crashing.

“If it’s that bad, we’re just going to steal _your_ room and _you’ll_ have to keep sharing with Cy.”

Dale starts sweeping a little faster, whistling innocently as he hurries to another part of the house.

Cy clears his throat. “It’s probably not that bad now…” He says it in a way that really means: Please don’t punish me for whatever _he’s_ thinking.

I smile over at him then shout up to the attic, “Hey, Chris! Is the house clear?”

“Why don’t you Look yourself?!” she growls back.

“I don’t know what you’ve done other than the sage or where to Look.”

Something gets dropped harshly. My eyes follow the thud of Chris’s footsteps and land on a stair-like ladder near the hallway. She pops her head out from the space in the ceiling, her dark wavy hair falling straight down, and glares at me. I smile back.

She glances around the living room, dining room, and what she can see of the kitchen. Her head disappears and she starts walking down the retractable stairs.

“You go deal with that mess,” she says gesturing her thumb to the attic. “I’ll deal with the leftover shit-bags refusing to leave.”

“Thank you, Chris,” I sing-song as I skip over to her. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Whatever. I called the side closest to the door.”

I nod and climb up the steps. The ceiling up here is rather low and slants drastically. No wonder Dale’s glad he got an actual bedroom. There’s very little space up here for someone his height to stand comfortably. The surplus of boxes and ancient furniture only take from that available space.

A dim bulb in the center of the attic is the only source of light in the room. Cobwebs and dust still litter most of the space. A small area close to the hatch is cleaner and less cluttered than the rest of the room — Chris’s space. Toppled books and boxes surround the small clearing where she’d been haphazardly shoving things. I shake my head at her shoddy organization then roll up the sleeves of my jacket.

As I stack boxes and reorganize the pieces furniture, I keep stopping to search through them. On my side of the room, I make a pile of interesting finds, like the shoebox of black & white photographs and a glass ornament with a dancing couple dangling in the center. Near the hatch, I make piles of things we can use: empty jars, old blankets, long-forgotten clothes.

By the time Dale calls me down for dinner, the room looks a little more inhabitable. There’s more room to walk now that I’ve almost finished stacking the boxes. I’ve got them stacked along the center of the room, roughly splitting it in half. It’s especially clean on Chris’s side since mine is cluttered with ancient knickknacks and interesting keepsakes.

The four of us squish into the dining room for dinner. The dining set is almost too big for the space, especially once we take our seats, but it’s been a while since we’ve been able to have dinner together at an actual table. No one complains at first but as we finish eating it starts getting a little hectic.

Chris kicks the back of Dale’s chair when she can’t squeeze by. Dale scoots his chair back even further, nearly crushing her against the small bartop that opens into the kitchen. She dumps her leftover spaghetti sauce into his hair. Dale shrieks and starts screaming at her. Chris shoves him and yells back. Cypress stands and starts shouting at the both of them. It’s pure craziness but it just makes me so unbelievably happy. Chris eventually notices me grinning and flips me off.

Once we all finish, Cypress stays downstairs to do the dishes while Chris, Dale, and I get back to work in the attic. Dale keeps accidentally smacking his head on the exposed beams and I keep laughing at him for it. When he’s able to avoid the beams, he’s tackling cobwebs with the broom and drawing simple sigils to help keep the space a bit warmer. Chris follows him around with a duster, sneezing whenever someone kicks up some dust and adds her own blessings to his work.

Occasionally they help me scoot a large trunk or bookcase or what-have-you to another part of the room. The mountain of stuff dividing the attic is a couple feet wide now and nearly touches the highest point of the slanted ceiling. The rest of the leftover furniture and belongings are stacked and pressed along the walls.

My side has a large dark green cabinet with drawers on the bottom and shelves on the top that took all three of us to push. There’s also a white-ish vanity with peeling paint and clusters of old trunks and hat boxes that I’ve stacked to roughly table height. Chris has two mismatched bookshelves – one squat and long, the other thin and tall –, two wooden chairs, a square folding table, a heavyset wardrobe, and an old sewing desk.

I bring a few boxes downstairs filled with jars, old kitchenware, and musty books. Cypress slides on his old pair of leather gloves, just in case, and rummages through them. He throws out anything broken or beyond repair before finding homes for the rest. There’s a medium sized hanging mirror that I bring to Dale’s room and a beautiful painting of a forest that I bring to Cy’s. I even find an old record player and set it up in the corner of the living room to test out later.

Cypress calls us all to bed at 11:30. The attic is so close to being finished that Chris and I start to whine. But Dale is exhausted and two bonks to the head away from a concussion and Cypress starts using his I’m-The-Adult voice, so we give in. To Dale’s annoyance, he and Cypress have to share the bed in Cy’s room, the only one in the house.

Chris and I squish together on the couch. Her legs and mine overlap and our feet are nearly in each other’s faces. If Dale and I didn’t need to stay apart while we slept, I’d force him to sleep out on the couch with me so he’d _really_ have something to complain about. But alas, Cypress needs a bed for his back, Dale and I have to sleep apart, and Chris and I are the shortest of the bunch. So she and I are stuck on the couch for now.

Her sneezing wakes me up at dawn, already back in the attic and doing another round of tidying up. I have to take the broom and promise to finish sweeping just so she’ll start getting ready for school. I bring a few more boxes down from the attic, including one with old records, and set a few things around the house to make it feel homier.

We leave fifteen minutes later than usual since we’re so much closer to everything now. Cy puts the house key in the mailbox before following the rest of us to the Bronco. He’s only driving us this morning so we can actually see the neighborhood and know our route to school. From now on, we’ll be able to walk to and from school on our own rather than getting up at an ungodly hour or waiting forever for him to pick us up. The idea of getting to sleep in a little longer from now on make Dale and I pretty happy.

Once we get to school, there're only fifteen minutes before the first bell. More cars than we usually see are parked in the lot, including the Cullens’ Volvo. Chris frowns at it but doesn’t say anything before heading to her locker. Dale heads for his too, which is the same building as his first class. I head to the math building.

“Morning, Mr. Varner,” I say stepping into his room. He nods in return. Edward turns his head from the window and smiles as I walk down my row. I smile back, surprised to find him sitting beside me again.

“Good morning, Amethyst,” he says warmly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not terribly. Would’ve slept better if Chris hadn’t been sneezing all night,” I say with a grin.

He opens his mouth to say something then freezes. In the same moment, my heart rate skyrockets. Adrenaline pumps through my veins at a dizzying speed. Meanwhile, Edward is gripping at his nose and mouth. His eyes are wide with panic, intensity, and… something else.

He grabs his desk with his other hand. A severe sense of déjà vu hits me but Edward doesn’t act the same as the last time this happened. He’s still ridged. He still looks ready to snap something in half. It must the surprise in his golden eyes. Or maybe it’s fear. Whatever it is, the expression on his face is not dark. It still frightens me, but only in that he himself looks so frightened.

“Excuse me,” he chokes, racing to get away.

Mr. Varner sends Edward a curious look as he hurries from the room. From the corner of my eye, I see him shift his focus to me. Probably wondering what I did to make Edward flee not even ten seconds after sitting down next to him. I stare at the door wondering the same thing.

My heart rate slows and my body relaxes as the adrenaline weens itself out of my system. Sitting there, staring at the door, my mind tries to filter through what just happened.

What _did_ just happen?

My life was threatened by something. _Again._ And Edward almost did the exact same thing he did the last time. Only today he had enough control over himself to not snap a desk in half and left the room instead. And once he did, once he was gone… so was the threat.

A terrible lump forms in my throat. I dive into my school bag and pull out mom’s brew, slathering it across my neck and wrists. Then I’m up and out the door too.

There’s no way to tell where Edward went so I just keep circling the school. I stop Sam when I see her and ask if she’s seen him but she just shakes her head. By sheer luck, I glance into a room and see one of his brothers.

“Emmett!” I shout before even finishing my double take.

Grizzly glances up in surprise then grins. “Amethyst, what’s up?”

“Do you know where Edward hangs out before school starts?”

He frowns and raises a brow. “I thought he was waiting for you in Varner’s room.”

“Well, he was but— um, in Mr. Varner’s room, I mean,” I say quickly, trying not to blush, “uh, but then something… kinda… happened.”

“What happened?” Emmett askes rising from his desk. For the record, in addition to being a huge mass of muscle, Emmett is also very tall. Taller than Dale. He stares down at me, a protective edge to his golden eyes.

“Oh. Well. Nothing really,” I squeak out. “We were saying hello and then he… um… he got a little sick, I guess, and excused himself.”

“He got _sick_?” He looks at me like I’m crazy for a second then starts bellowing with laughter. The whole room seems to shake at the booming sound.

“Oh, _man!_ That’s hilarious! I have _got_ to see this.”

“Wait, Emmett!” I barely catch him before he’s out the door. “Do you know where he is?”

“No, but I’ll find him for you,” he says grinning even wider. “How’s that?”

I frown a little but nod. “Can you just do me a favor and tell him not to freak out too much? I think I… I’m pretty sure… uh…” Emmett guffaws and I shake my head. “Just tell him to trust me and that class will be fine, okay?”

He nods, still snickering, then heads out. I go the exact opposite direction, begging my cheeks to stop burning, and keep searching.

Eventually, I start running into my friends. I _almost_ ask Jessica if she’s seen Edward around. She’s the most likely to know where someone is and where they hang out, but the last thing I need is for her to start asking questions or coming up with new rumors about us.

I keep looking for Edward until the bell rings then trudge back to Mr. Varner’s room emptyhanded. Edward is already there. I’m surprised, and a little hurt, to see him sitting back in his old spot.

Flopping into my own seat, I frown. Throughout class, I fiddle with my pencil, bounce my knee, and keep glancing over in his direction. He doesn’t look back. I consider throwing my pencil at him but don’t. Instead, I write him a note on a scrap of paper:

_‘Sorry about earlier, but everything should be okay now. Do you still ~~notice anything~~ feel sick?’ _

I roll the message into a ball and throw it at him. It hits him in the forearm and lands directly in front of him. He stares down at the little ball of paper. For a second he doesn’t move at all. Then his eyes shift in my direction. Though he doesn’t look _at_ me, I’m sure he sees me staring. Waiting.

He sighs softly then freezes. A horrified expression plasters across his face for all of two seconds before melting into confusion. He sits there for a minute, staring at nothing, then wraps his hands around his desk. Nothing groans or creaks or snaps. He just sits there, holding his desk. He takes a very small breath.

He blinks. He takes a larger breath. I quirk a brow at him.

Eventually, he turns to me, still looking confused. I point to the slip of paper in front of him then try to focus on Mr. Varner’s lesson. Everything the old man says goes in one ear and out the other, but at the very least I’m able to copy everything he’s got on the board.

In no time at all, the little ball of paper bounces back onto my desk. Unfolding it, I spend a moment gawking at Edward’s elegant handwriting beneath my chicken scratch. Such pretty penmanship on crinkled school paper just seems criminal.

_‘I’m fine now. How did you do that?’_

I frown at the question. Do what? Fix the problem or cause it in the first place? Because I don’t know how I caused what happened. I only know that I did.

It’s a real struggle to shoot down every theory that pops in my head. Especially because some of them do make quite a bit of sense. If he’s Sensitive, that might be what’s causing it. My unmasked presence could somehow be triggering a painful response in him or some kind of fighting instinct. Or maybe it’s that he—

No, no, _no!_ Ugh! No questions! No prying! Why is that so hard for my dumb brain to grasp? And he’s not allowed to ask questions either!

In my jagged handwriting, I scribble back, _‘Wrestling Chairs.’_

I roll it back into a ball, pause, unfold it again, and add a winking face. Then I send it back.

Edward frowns when he reads it.

The bell rings and I pack up my things. Mike whines about tonight’s homework while we walk. Angela does her best to reassure him he’ll be okay but he just glances in my direction with sad, kicked-puppy eyes.

“Did you understand anything Mr. Varner was saying, Am?”

“I wasn’t paying attention, to be honest. But I’m sure it’ll make some sense once I reread the textbook. I’m pretty good with math.”

Mike’s eyes light up. “Really? Is there any chance you’d want to—”

“Excuse me.”

We turn to find Edward right behind us.

“Could I borrow you for a moment, Amethyst?”

“Sure thing.” I wave to Angela and Mike.

Mike frowns. He grumbles out a goodbye and leaves. Angela shifts her eyes from Mike to me and Edward. She pauses on Edward then turns her attention back to me. She stutters, telling me she’ll meet me in English, then hurries off.

I sigh. “Twenty bucks says I’ll be hounded by Jess when I get there.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Edward mumbles. I hum at him curiously but he just gestures to the path ahead of us. “I’m sorry for stealing you away from your friends,” he doesn’t sound like it, “but I needed to ask you what—”

“No questions,” I say quickly. “Remember? We said no questions.”

“I know, but… I don’t understand how you did that. That’s twice now that you’ve done something like that. I can’t wrap my head around it,” he says earnestly.

“Yeah, well…” I keep my eyes on my shoes. “Just know that I know what to do now. It won’t happen again.”

“But how? I don’t understand how you—”

“Edward,” I say halting and turning on him. “No questions means _no questions_ . I realize it’s frustrating and annoying, _believe me_ , but that’s what we agreed on. I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing. I promise you won’t have any more trouble with… getting sick in class. Okay?”

He stares at me for a second. His eyes light up as it dawns on him that he isn’t the only one struggling with our deal. Not that that helps. The curious glint in his eyes keeps growing the longer we stare at each other. He turns his golden eyes downward, trying to contain himself. We continue walking.

“Can at least ask if it’s difficult for you to do… whatever it is?”

“I guess that’s fine,” I say with a sigh. “And, no, it’s not. It’s just a matter of remembering to do it. Which I will from now on.”

As I say this, I think about Mom’s potion and how much is left in the bottle. She always makes a fresh batch before she goes off looking for Dad or to help a client. I’ve never run out while she’s away, but I’ve also never had to douse myself every single day before either. Which is what I’m going to have to start doing to make sure my… whatever-it-is doesn’t bother Edward anymore.

She’s been gone since Chris’s birthday, which missed the Summer Solstice by two days this year. She didn’t even send us a message on Cy’s birthday, which is unlike her. But the point is, I’ve been using the potion on and off for the past several months and the bottle is already almost half empty. If I use it every day, I’ll probably only get another month or two out of this batch.

Dale and I know how to make more, more or less. His attempts are always, naturally, better than mine. But I doubt we have all the ingredients right now. I also doubt Forks has any shops that sell what we need. There has to be something nearby to help us replenish our stock, though. Worst case scenario, we might need to take a day trip to Seattle.

Although… If I tell Dale I’m running low, he might start asking questions. How did I run out so quickly? Why am I using it so often? What do I mean Edward gets weird and nearly breaks desks when I don’t use it? And so on. The fact that Dale hasn’t gotten anything incriminating out of our head so far is nothing short of a miracle. If he asks too many questions, though, something is bound to slip through. I sigh again.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Edward asks. His concern makes my heart swell but I squish it down.

“Yeah. Just thinking. That’s all.”

Edward frowns and his brow furrows. His expression is caught somewhere between frustration and a pout. It makes me chuckle.

When we reach my English class, I rub his shoulder encouragingly and give him small hug. He stares at me wide-eyed. He’s so stunned, he doesn’t even respond when I say I’ll see him in Gym.

To my great shock, Jessica is not standing in the row, hands on her hips, waiting to shriek at me when I enter the room. Instead, she’s chattering away about a fight Jennifer Brown and Chloe Smith had last night on one of their blogs. She acknowledges me when I slide into my seat then recounts the whole fight for me from the beginning. I nod along at all the right cues.

When Mr. Mason calls the class to attention, I turn to give Angela a questioning look. Her face gets a little red and she quickly looks away. When she finds the courage to look back again, I smile and mouth, “Thanks.” Her cheeks stay pink but she nods.

* * *

 

Alice walks into Biology more distracted than usual. Her eyes are completely fogged over. She walks down the aisle slowly, her attention obviously elsewhere. Her small, careful steps and blank face remind me of a blind woman.

“Alice?”

She stops beside our desk, still looking forward. After a moment she frowns. She looks down at me, momentarily breaking her trance and giving me a good view of her golden eyes.

Had they been gold yesterday or still black? Not that it really matters with the Cullens. Maybe this is normal for them. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow they’ll all have silver eyes or purple ones — anything but red would be fine.

Alice blinks down at me with her currently-golden eyes. She smiles tightly then takes her seat.

“Good morning, Amethyst.”

“Morning,” I return. “Is everything okay?”

Her smile starts to fall and the fog starts to roll back over her eyes. She quickly forces her smile back into place and nods.

“Everything’s fine. Edward just wanted me to keep an eye on a few things for him.” She glares off to the side. “A _better_ eye,” she grumbles.

“Oh.”

Right now, Alice seems like the least able person to keep an eye on _anything_ , let alone a few things. Or maybe she’s the most able. Those foggy eyes of hers might tell her more than anyone could ever imagine. It’s impossible to know for sure, and asking could get me killed – literally if Rosalie catches wind of it – so I just hum quietly to myself instead.

Alice glances back over at me, a curious glimmer in her eyes. Neither of us says anything for a while. Eventually, she sighs and stares straight ahead, her eyes fogging over again. When the bell rings, I tell her not to worry about explaining today’s lesson to me. She comes out of her fog to look at me again, still curious, then nods in thanks and goes back into her not-quite-daydreaming.

Biology is so much harder without her guidance. While I’m scrambling to keep up with Mr. Banner’s nonsense, Alice doesn’t write a single thing down. Heck, she doesn’t even take anything out of her bag. But when Banner asks her a question, hoping to catch her off guard, she answers without pause and without care. She just keeps staring off into whatever she sees. Mr. Banner doesn’t pick on her again.

I start packing up my things before the bell rings. Once it does, I’m out of my seat and next to Alice. When she stands, I link arms with her. People gawk at me as I guide her out of the room.

Alice’s arm is completely ridged until she blinks and seems to realize someone is holding her. She bends her arm, though it’s still very stiff, then glances up at me.

“You’re obviously preoccupied,” I tell her as we walk. “The last thing I want is for you to get hurt while you’re lost in thought.”

“I’ll be fine, Amethyst,” Alice says smiling. “Besides, everyone—”

Her eyes instantly fog over. Not even a step later, she comes back into the moment and stares at me. A wild grin flies across her features.

“Everyone’s going to stare at you!” she says excitedly. “They’ll be gossiping about you and my family all afternoon!”

I stare at my crazy-eyed friend. “Um… and that’s… _good?”_

Alice rolls her eyes, but the grin doesn’t leave her face. She glances down at our arms again. Her eyes fog over once more, slower than the last time. Slowly, her face falls. When she comes back to me again, she nearly looks ready to cry.

“What’s wrong, Alice?” I ask carefully.

She shakes her head and looks down. “Nothing,” she says softly. “I thought I’d figured it out but…” She shakes her head again and sighs heavily.

I gingerly rub Alice’s arm as we enter the girls’ locker room. It does nothing to comfort her.

She doesn’t wait by the door for me today. When I enter the gym, she’s standing near Edward, both of them staring at the floor. Edward occasionally gazes from one side of the room to the other or up at the ceiling. Neither of them says anything.

With a frown, I hurry over to them. Like Alice predicted, everyone’s eyes are on me, following me across the large room. Edward watches me, too, with a small smile slowly taking shape. Alice glances over at him just as I reach them.

Edward takes a careful breath as I greet them — something which makes Alice scoff.

“Are you okay, Alice?” I ask again.

“I’m fine,” she huffs. “Just frustrated, that’s all.” She stops glaring at the floor long enough to look at me and purse her lips.

“Is there… anything I can do to help?” My voice goes higher with uncertainty. Somehow, it feels like whatever’s bothering her is my fault. But I don’t know how or why or if there’s anything I can do to fix it.

Alice just drops her eyes and shakes her head. “It’s just something I need to figure out,” she mutters.

I raise a brow in Edward’s direction, hoping for more clarification. He just gives me a half-amused smirk.

“Wrestling Chairs,” he says with a wink.

My heart speeds up as my eyebrows jump to my hairline. Edward’s grin gets a little more amused. Alice glances up at us, but I just nod quickly and look away.

From this corner of the room, I can see just about everybody in the gym. People flick glances my way while we wait for Coach Clapp. Some are subtle about it. Others stare openly and unabashed until they realize I’m staring back.

Zac and Kyle enter the gym at the same time. The two of them spot me and Kyle leans over. He must say something Zac doesn’t like because Zac glares and hits him. Kyle laughs and throws an arm around his sulking friend. Zac sends one more look to our little group, his eyes landing on Edward before I lose them in the crowd.

Edward makes a low sound, possibly a sigh but maybe not. Despite him standing a little closer than before, it’s hard to tell. He frowns in the direction the boys were headed.

“Another day of being the talk of the town, huh?” I ask.

He glances over at me, quirking a brow. After a small moment, the questioning look disappears. He sighs for sure this time. “It looks like it,” he says.

His annoyed tone makes me frown. “What’s the matter, Edward?”

He shakes his head. “You probably wouldn’t be talked about as much if you stayed with your normal friends.” I can tell by the way he says “normal” he means my friends who are Norms.

Part of me briefly wonders if that word is in their vocabulary: Norms, Normals, Common Folk. Of the few witches and covens I’ve interacted with, most have their own word to separate us from non-magical people. Thanks to J. K. Rowling, most can easily avoid confusion by using the term “muggle”. It has the added bonus of being a mainstream word, too. If anyone overhears it, they just think you’re a huge Harry Potter nerd rather than an actual witch.

“This is Forks High School,” I tell him. “In case you haven’t noticed, the first place National Varsity Gossip Championship award is on display in the front office.”

Edward chuckles at that.

“People are going to talk one way or another,” I continue. “I’d rather they talk about things I agree with than not, though.”

His eyebrows rise. “You agree with what they’re saying?”

“Oh. No, I don’t know.” I consider our classmates, the large distance between them and the Cullens and I. “I have no idea what they’re saying.”

He nods. Mostly to himself, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him but makes sense nonetheless.

“Why?” I ask. “What have you heard?”

Edwards glances back to the crowd. He frowns and returns his attention to me. “I’d rather not say.”

“They just talk about how strange it is for you to be so friendly with us,” Alice supplies, ignoring her brother’s scowl. She smiles, showing off her perfect teeth. “The best of them think we’re conceited loners. The rest aren’t so nice.”

I furrow my brows in confusion. Okay, Rosalie, I can see being conceited, but the rest of them? True, they did seem to keep to themselves but… It suddenly dawns on me that no one else ever really talks to the Cullens.

Edward keeps to himself in Trig. Alice never acknowledges anyone else in Bio and no one in Bio acknowledges her. Even in Gym, a lot of our classmates purposefully try to avoid them. Heck, even Lauren had told me to avoid Edward my very first day of class. Not only that but the day Dale had walked up to their table at lunch, literally everybody in the room had turned their head to watch him. And the tables closest to theirs are always void of people.

The Cullens are always alone. It’s like an invisible forcefield is around them at all times. No one ever passes the invisible line. I can’t tell if that bothers them or not. They never go out of their way to include themselves with others. As someone who’s used to constantly moving around, I can understand their reluctance to waste energy on people who, eventually, won’t matter. But even so, I can’t imagine being completely isolated like that.

“How long have you stayed in Forks?” I ask.

“Two years,” Edward answers. I gawk at him.

“Two _years?”_

They’ve managed to keep their secrets hidden for _that_ long? One year is barely even possible for my family! Two is just… _inconceivable_. I suppose keeping to yourself all the time would certainly cut back the number of incidents with Norms. But not making any friends at _all_ for two years? I’m not sure anyone in my family could manage it.

Even during our shortest stays, we all find _someone_ to connect with. Even Chris makes a friend or two. If we were stuck with just ourselves for that long, we’d all go insane and try to kill each other. I’m sure of it. But still… two years is pretty tempting.

 _“Wow,”_ I breath aloud. “That’s amazing.”

“Is it?” Alice asks lifting a brow.

“That’s right,” Edward says, realization dawning on him. “Forks is your fourth high school.”

Alice and I stare at him in surprise. Her at the information, me at the fact he remembered at all. Alice turns to me.

“This is your fourth high school?” she asks. “But you’re a junior, too, right? Four high schools the past three years?”

“Well, it’s only October, so technically just two years.” I look between the two of them, still in awe. “Two years… _Wow_.” I shake my head. “You guys are lucky.”

The Cullens’ faces become hard to read. There are hints of guilt or possibly surprise mixed into their smooth features. It’s hard to tell what they’re thinking, but being “lucky” probably isn’t part of it. Before I can ask anything, Coach Clapp calls the room to attention and the soccer games commence.

When Lauren and I meet up outside the locker room, I tell her I want to wait for Alice. She gives me an uncomfortable look but quietly agrees. Alice comes out a few seconds later. She smiles at me.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, Amethyst.”

“It’s no problem.”

Lauren says nothing. Alice turns to her.

“Hi, Lauren,” she chirps.

Lauren looks a little surprised, like maybe she didn’t think Alice knew her name. She gets over it quickly and manages a small, nonchalant, “Hey.”

The three of us walk down the hall together, myself in the middle. It’s a little awkward. Mostly because Lauren keeps moving further and further away from us. When I catch her attention, she blinks at the space between us, like she hadn’t even realized she’d moved that far, and comes closer again. Alice either doesn’t notice this or doesn’t care. She bounds down the hall so joyfully I half expect her to start singing and dancing.

Her eyes go a little foggy as we enter the cafeteria. I hold her arm as a precaution, ignoring the feeling of Lauren’s stare. As she comes out of it, Alice giggles. I raise a brow at her. She puts her head down innocently but her smile stays in place.

Lauren goes first in the lunch line. I expect to go next, but Alice skips a few feet ahead of me. She spins around on the ball of her foot with a large smile in place. It gets a bit bigger as she looks over my shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Edward.” Her eyes glimmer. “I didn’t see you there.”

My head turns just fast enough to catch him frowning at his sister as he walks towards us. The look shifts into something more suspicious. He greets her cautiously. Alice says nothing more and simply focuses on grabbing a tray and moving leisurely through the line.

I raise a brow and shake my head at her actions before turning to Edward and giving him a small smile. “Hello again, Edward.”

“Hello, Amethyst.” He returns a soft smile of his own. His quickly sends a sharp glare over my shoulder at Alice, who is innocently deciding between a turkey and vegetarian sandwich.

He sends his scowl to the food in front of us. Occasionally, the two Cullens will send each other little looks over my head. I stay out of it as much as I can but my lips keep twitching with snickers.

Clearing my throat, I grab my usual slice of pizza. Edward grabs one, too. Ah, so he does like pizza. Wonderful! I smile over at him, breaking the little staring contest he’s got going on with his sister. Unsurprisingly, he is completely lost as to why I’m smiling at him. I chuckle and go back to the food.

I avoid looking at the pasta covered in an unidentifiable chunky brown sauce and briefly glance at the messy basin of mashed potatoes. I grab a little baggie of carrots and a milk carton. Reaching the checkout, I stare at the packets of ranch dressing and the tempting tray of cookies. Both cost extra.

In the grand scheme of things, another $1.75 doesn’t seem like much. But when you only have so much money for a week’s worth of lunches… it adds up. Something Dale is incapable of understanding. He always buys more food than he needs on Mondays and Tuesdays and is almost always broke by Thursday. Luckily for him, his zombie hoard is always willing to help feed him. Chris and I only ever have just enough money to make it through the week and, after a lifetime of listening to it, we no longer have any sympathy for his begging.

The man at the counter rings up my pizza, carrots, and milk while I eye the kid behind Edward swiping three cookies from the display. Even Edward takes one. With a jealous frown, I pay the man and pick up my tray.

“Wait.” Edward takes the cookie from his tray and hands it out to me. “Here. My treat.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” I say shaking my head. I must’ve been staring longer than I thought. “Thank you though.”

“I insist,” he says still offering it.

I glance down at the cookie, then over at the man behind the register staring at us like his favorite soap opera just came on. He quickly goes back to ringing up Edward’s tray: pizza, fries, an apple, a cup of fruit, a juice, and the cookie. He gives Edward his total — which is double my daily budget.

“Here,” Edward says again after he pays. “Really, I want you to have it.”

“Alright, alright, if you insist.” I take it with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Edward.”

He smiles and nods before following his sister to their usual table. I go to mine where Lauren sits, staring at me wide-eyed, not touching her food.

“Are you two really not dating?” she asks once I side beside her. Her face is a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity. She isn’t asking to pry or out of jealousy. She genuinely seems curious to know what’s going on, but even so, I can’t help but sigh.

“Et Tu, Lauren?”

She scoffs. “Don’t let Mrs. Goff hear that terrible pronunciation.”

“Mrs. Who?”

“Goff. Aren’t you taking Spanish?”

“No, I tested out of Latin a few schools ago. I was quoting Shakespeare.”

Lauren stares at me. After a moment, she says, “Well, either way, you didn’t answer my question.”

I sigh again. “No, Edward and I aren’t dating,” I tell her earnestly. “We’re just friends.”

“Friends with the Cullens,” she mumbles. Her expression pinches like she’s tasted something sour. “Why? How? They don’t like anybody.”

“Strange—” I stop myself. _Strange understands strange_ is not something to say when you’re trying to help a friend hold on to a two-year streak. “Stranger things have happened, I’m sure,” I amend with a shrug.

Lauren shrugs as well. Our table slowly starts to fill with the usual people. Mike sits next to me and pulls out his math book, asking if I can go over today’s material with him. Agreeing, he scoots his chair closer to me and I shift mine to face him a little better.

When Jessica finally shows up, she doesn’t say a word. She just sets down her tray across from Mike and I then leaves. Me, him, and Tyler all look at each other uncertainly while Lauren and Angela share a knowing glance.

We watch Jessica go over to my brother’s table and start talking. Dale flickers his gaze over to me then back to Jessica and nods with a charming smile. He gathers his things and stands, sends an apologetic grin to his usual hoard of girls, then follows Jessica back over to our table and sits next to her. I blink at her, confused, then to Dale.

He raises a brow at me, not knowing why I’m confused, while Jessica pulls out her English book.

“Thank you _so_ much for helping me, Dale,” she says sweetly, fluttering her eyes. “I was going to ask Amethyst or Mike but, obviously, they’re a little busy.”

“Ask what?” Mike says looking between the two of them.

“Ask you to help me with my English homework,” Jessica says barely looking at him. “But you’re with Amethyst now, so I asked Dale instead.”

Dale glances back at me, easing open our connection. _She said you told her I was an English ace and to go ask if I would be willing to help._

I quirk a brow as I eat the remainder of my pizza crust. I vaguely remember telling Jess during one of her sets of 20 questions that Dale was good at English, but I didn’t tell her to go talk to him. She hadn’t even spoken to anyone before going to get him.

Dale grimaces a little. On the outside, he nods along as she tells him her instructions. Between him and me, he thinks, _Oh, great. I think we’ve stepped into a lovers spat._ He glances over at Mike, who is frowning at the math book in front of him and muttering something. _He’s talking to_ you _, Sunshine._

I blink out of our inner conversation and put up a light barrier between Dale’s thoughts and mine. Dale can easily interact with people and what’s going on around him even when our connection is at its strongest. Me? I can barely register anything other than our thoughts. The outside world goes quiet and dim until I drag myself back into the moment. It’s not fair.

Of course, Dale thinks it’s perfectly fair. He can’t pick up on my mind as easily as I can his when our connection is dulled. To him, it only makes sense that my head can’t focus on anything else when the frequency is heightened. Personally, he thinks it’s a reflection of his superior intellect.

I snort.

 _Listen to your friend, Sunshine,_ Dale reminds me, breaking through my flimsy defenses. _You just insulted him._

I snap my head to Mike, blinking back into the moment, who looks surprised. “Sorry, did you say something, Mike? I was thinking about how stupid my brother is.”

_Rude._

I throw a glare at Dale then force my walls up.

“—ink we could get together after school today?”

“After school?” I repeat. “Today?”

Mike nods, smiling. “Yeah. You know. A study date? I’m kind of struggling here,” he says with a chuckle.

“Oh. Yeah, um… I don’t think I can. I have work right after school today.”

“You work?” Jessica asks, surprised. “Where?”

“Deb’s Diner, just up the highway. Just started last night.”

 _“Why?”_ Her tone borders on an accusation. Something she quickly tries to right by smiling. “You only just moved here!” she says in a more playful tone.

I shrug. “Christmas is just a few months away. Every penny counts.”

“It’s not even Halloween!”

“Almost,” I say sharing a grin with Dale. “Just two weeks away!”

“Do you like Halloween?” Angela asks.

“Of course I do! Who doesn’t?”

“Well, you know, I always have a party on Halloween night. You and your fam could come if you wanted,” Mike says sending a pleasant grin to Dale. “It starts at my place but we all end up at First Beach for some scary stories around a bonfire.”

Dale glances over at me, our thoughts one and the same. Halloween, also called All Hallows Eve and Samhain, is the Witch’s New Year and the beginning of the dark times. It’s also the day when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. It can be a very dangerous time but also one of heightened awareness. Perhaps most importantly, it’s a day to celebrate family and all those who came before. Because of all these things, our family has a very strict rule: whatever we do on Halloween, we have to do it together. I am especially not allowed to be alone. _At all._

Dale and I shrug. “ **We’ll see. We’ve got to ask the other two.** ” We share an annoyed look, but Mike just nods.

“Sure, just let me know.”

“If I go, can I invite some other friends too?” Dale asks eyeing his senior girls.

“Of course! Pretty much all the juniors and seniors will be there anyway but go ahead. We just need to make sure we clean up the beach when we leave.”

“Will the Cullens be there?” I ask. The table goes silent. Dale – who hasn’t yet figured out that the Cullens are the most popular pariahs this side of Utah – glances around curiously.

“Is there… something wrong with the Cullens being there?” He speaks carefully. Somewhere between the verge of defensiveness and concern.

“No,” Lauren answers for the table. “Nothing wrong with it. They just don’t go to parties.”

“Not unless it’s, like, prom or homecoming or something like that,” Jessica supplies.

“Does anyone ever invite them?” I ask. Everyone at the table glances at one another. No one’s really sure how to answer which tells me right away. “Could we invite them?”

Mike clears his throat a little, looking kind of uncomfortable. “I mean, yeah, I guess. Anyone can come. It’s pretty much a public beach, anyway, so…”

“We should make sure we’re going first, though, Sunshine,” Dale tells me. “It’d be pretty rude to invite someone then not show up yourself.”

“Yeah, definitely do that first,” Mike says nodding and moving his seat a smidge away from me.

The bell rings shortly after that. A spell seems to lift from the table at the sound. The heavy blanket of awkwardness casts itself away as everyone rises. Mike thanks me for the math lesson with a nod before walking off. Jessica thanks Dale by wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing herself against him. Lauren rolls her eyes and grabs Angela by the arm before huffing off.

I gag and pack up my things as quickly as possible. The display of affection itself isn’t really that bad. Dale’s smug, giddy, and very boyish thoughts, however, are insufferable. Fast as I can, I throw my bag over my shoulder and grab my cookie. I bring it to my mouth and turn for my usual exit when—

_IS THAT A COOKIE?!_

_“Gah!”_ I yelp and grab at the sides of my head. Dale’s thought rings painfully loud in my skull, spreading from temple to temple.

_Shit, sorry, sorry!_

“Are you okay, Amethyst?” someone outside our head asks. The sound is garbled but still unbearably loud. I press harder against my head. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to set Dale and whoever it is aflame.

 _Sorry, Am._ The thought is very soft and light, almost like a whisper. _You and Chris just always give me such a hard time when I buy extra things like that, so I—_

_But I didn’t buy it! Edward bought it and gave it to me!_

Dale’s thoughts pause. Someone on the outside rubs my back. I immediately know it’s Dale because his mind becomes even more conjoined with mine.

Together, we re-watch Edward pick up the cookie and his dazzling smile once I accept it. Part of our mind focuses on the cookie itself and the transaction; how kind it was of Edward, how polite. He really is a nice guy. The other focuses on Edward’s eyes and grin. He’s undeniably handsome. His happiness sparkles like a rare gem. There’s a glowing feeling followed by giddiness. Then anxiety.

It’s too hard to tell who is who, who’s focusing on what, what feelings are whose, who’s thoughts are directing our mind to go one way or the other. One of us doesn’t like this and wants to put the wall back up between us. The other doesn’t necessarily dislike it but agrees that getting stuck like this again would not be good.

Something outside me forces my body to move forward. A part of me catches on something and I stumble. A soft weight clings to my torso and carefully guides me forward. It takes several hard moments of blinking and staring into nothingness for the world, and my body, to come back to me.

I’m in Mrs. Taylor’s room. I’d been pushed in from behind. My foot must have caught on the entryway and made me trip. The guiding force is a pair of hands on my shoulders leading me to a desk.

“M’fine,” I gurgle out. Lowering my hands from my temples, only a small piece of my cookie is still there, crushed into pieces.

“Are you sure?” Jessica’s voice surprises me. She lifts her hands off me as I turn my head to look at her. “Your brother said it might take a while for you to come out of it. What was that? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say rubbing my head.

Taking a seat I stare down at my broken cookie. Slowly I take a bite and look up at Jessica. Her eyes are wide, waiting for some kind of answer. With a sigh, I realize I’m not getting out of this one. I slap the chair-desk next to me. She rushes to sit and scooches closer to me.

“So, first, let’s avoid any repeats: what _exactly_ did Dale tell you?”

“He said sometimes you get really bad headaches all of a sudden. That it makes it really hard for you to focus on anything else for a minute or two but then they go away.”

“Anything else?” I ask finishing off my crumbs. Whatever story he gave her, I want to make sure to stick to it as closely as possible.

She shrugs. “Not really. He walked us to class and asked me to get you to a chair. He told me you’d come out of it in a few seconds and not to worry too much.”

I nod and glare down at the floor. I have no memory of any of this. It pisses me off that Dale has so much control over himself even when our consciousnesses are so dangerously close together. What the hell was he even thinking, touching me when our defenses were completely down like that? He knows how dangerous that is so what the hell!

What even was the point? Was he so curious to see if I was telling the truth about Edward buying the cookie that he was willing to put our minds in danger like that? Did he not believe me and just want an excuse to call me a liar? No, I know he believed me. He knew I was being honest because our minds were already open to one another. I would’ve had to think about lying to lie to him and he would’ve caught me. What the hell did he need to see, need to experience from my own point of view, that could excuse throwing our heads in a loop like that, without warning, in front of a school full of Norms?

Something moves rapidly in front of my face. I jolt back from it only to realize it’s Jessica’s hand.

“Amethyst? Are you _sure_ you’re okay? Do you want me to bring you to the nurse’s office?”

“No, no. It’s fine.” I put my hand over my eyes for a moment then set it down. “It’s normal for me to be really… out of it after one of my… headaches. It’ll pass, though. I’ll be fine. I might just need you to repeat whatever Mrs. Taylor says at the end of class, if that’s okay?”

Jessica nods. “So I guess this happens a lot, huh?”

“Usually not this bad,” I say with a sigh, “but every once and a while, yeah.”

“Didn’t you have a headache last week, too? And yesterday?”

I turn to her in surprise. “Did I?”

“The first one might’ve been the week before last. I’m not sure. But you definitely had one yesterday at lunch. I was sitting right next to you, remember? You nearly dropped your pizza.”

Ah, yes. Of course the Gossip Queen would remember. Dale was so excited about the idea of Edward and I possibly dating he decided to break into my brain. Damn him for nearly making me drop my pizza. In fact, damn him for swiping my consciousness out from under me, too!

Knowing full well that the universe is going to get me back for it, I send a curse after Dale. Nothing big. Nothing that would actually hurt him or wind up the karmic forces of the universe _too_ too much. But it’s definitely going to make the rest of his week a bitch.

“Am?”

I look up at Jessica. The slight relief in her eyes tells me she only had to call my name once.

“Do you remember?” she asks again and I nod.

“Yeah, sorry. Just cursing my brother,” I tell her honestly. “I hate when he tells people about... my headaches. I hate making people worry over nothing.”

“Is it really nothing?” she presses. I frown realizing it isn’t out of concern but a desire for gossip.

“Yes, it’s really nothing. Dale gets them too. You’ll see.”

I’ll make sure of it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! School and work both started back up for me in September so time for writing has been few and far between. Updates are likely going to take a while for some time but they will come!
> 
> 24 pages for you this time! Hope it made up for the wait!
> 
> As always, please leave a review. I love hearing from you. Even a simple "Can't wait for more!" makes my whole day! And anything more than that just makes me feel #blessed.


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